MY  SIXTY  YEARS 
ON  THE  PLAINS 


Ivaummti, 


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(= 

i 

o 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Trapping,  Trading,  and  Indian  Fighting 


By  W:  Tf Hamilton    »«** 

("Bill  Hamilton") 
Edited  by  E.  T.  Sieber 

With  Eight  Full-Page  Illustrations 

By  Charles  M.  Russell 


New  York 

Forest  and  Stream  Publishing  Co. 
1905 


COPYRIGHT,  1905 

BY 
THE  FOREST  AND  STREAM  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


ttbe  ftnicfterbocber  fcress,  flew  yorfe 


Bancroft  Library 


CONTENTS 
^ 

CHAPTER  I  PAGE 

The  Vote  that  Made  me  an  Indian  Fighter.  St.  Louis. 
I  Join  Bill  Williams's  Party.  The  Boy  Catches  on. 
A  Parley  with  Kiowas.  Friendly  Cheyennes.  A 
Traders'  Trick.  My  First  Sign-Talk.  A  Good  Trade. 
Swift  Runner  my  Friend.  Athletics  and  Longevity.  17-27 

CHAPTER  II 

Buffalo  Hunt  with  Cheyennes.  A  Stirring  Picture.  My 
First  Buffalo.  Perils  of  the  Chase.  We  are  Feasted 
on  our  Return.  Character  of  the  Cheyennes.  Pem- 
mican  and  Depuyer  a  Substitute  for  Bread.  We 
Leave  the  Cheyennes 28-34 

CHAPTER  III 

Sioux  Village  on  the  South  Platte.  A  Pawnee  Horse  Raid. 
We  Give  Chase.  Wonderful  Endurance  of  the  Indian 
Pony.  The  Stock  Recaptured.  My  First  Shot  at  an 
Indian.  Return  with  Pawnee  Scalps.  Coup-Sticks. 
Counting  Coups 35-41 

CHAPTER  IV 

Fur-Trade  Rivalries.  "Free  Traders"  and  the  Com- 
panies. Wealth  of  the  Sioux.  War-Parties  and 
Singing.  Indian  Revenge.  We  Sell  our  Furs  for  Good 
Prices.  Bill  Williams  a  Diplomat.  Visited  by  Arapa- 
hoes.  We  Trade,  Feast,  and  Smoke.  A  Threatening 
Party  of  Crows,  "  Business  Diplomacy  "  .  42-50 


Contents 


CHAPTER  V 

PAGB 

In  a  Dangerous  Country.  We  Find  a  Moccasin  and 
Prepare  for  Trouble.  Attacked  in  the  Night  by 
Blackfeet.  The  Enemy  Repulsed.  Scalps  Taken. 
Pursuit.  Williams  a  Reckless  Indian  Fighter.  I 
Lift  my  First  Scalp.  We  Wipe  out  the  Entire  Party. 
Beaver  Trapping  an  Art 5^-59 

CHAPTER  VI 

Little  Wind  River.  A  Wonderful  Hot  Spring.  Shoshone 
Scouts.  Chief  Washakie.  We  Trade  our  Blackfoot 
Plunder.  Shoshone  Horse  for  Blackfoot  Scalp.  A 
Night  of  Council,  Scalp  Dance,  and  War  Song.  The 
Fate  of  Two  Trappers.  "Good  for  Evil"  not  the 
Trappers'  Creed.  Shakespeare  in  a  Trapper's  Pack. 
Mountain  Men  Great  Readers.  A  White  Beaver  .  60-69 

CHAPTER  VII 

The  Scouts  Report  Indian  War-Parties.  We  Resolve  to 
Clear  the  Country  of  them.  Scouting  for  Hostiles. 
A  Want  of  Strategy.  Some  Actual  Warfare.  A  Wild 
Scene.  We  Have  a  Close  Encounter.  We  Rush 
the  Knoll.  A  Night  of  Mingled  Mourning  and 
Rejoicing 70-77 

CHAPTER  VIII 

A  Brush  with  Piegans.  We  Part  from  the  Shoshones.  I 
Mystify  Washakie.  Indian  Horsemanship.  The  Sho- 
shones. Beaver  Trapping.  My  First  Bear.  A  Lesson 
in  Bear  Shooting.  Fascination  of  the  Mountain 
Life 78-87 

CHAPTER  IX 

The  Blackfoot  Fort  in  Utah.  A  Good  Day  for  Bears. 
Fort  Bridger.  Mountain  Men's  Law  We  Trade  our 
Furs.  Infatuated  with  the  Life.  Exploration  of  the 
Yellowstone  in  1839.  Afterwards  I  Visit  that  Country. 
Trappers'  Tales.  My  Skill  in  Sign-Language.  We  Go 
with  Washakie's  Band  ,  ,  88-98 


Contents 


CHAPTER  X  .          PAGE 

Horse-Racing.         Shooting    from    Horseback.        Whites 
Outshoot    Indians.       Williams  Leaves   us.      Navajo 
Blankets.     A  Lost  Manuscript  .         „         .         99-102 

CHAPTER  XI 

An  Expedition  to  Explore  Utah.  The  "Boy"  Becomes 
"Bill."  Old  Bear  Orders  us  off.  "Big  Chief  never 
Smokes  with  White  Dogs."  Trapper  Life  in  a  Hostile 
Indian  Country.  Fortified  in  Camp  Weber.  The 
American  Trapper  a  Fine  Type.  We  Hear  Wolf  Howls 
and  Prepare  for  Attack.  The  Enemy  Repulsed 
with  Heavy  Losses.  A  "Big  Talk"  and  Peace. 
"  It  Costs  too  much  Blood  to  Fight  Trappers  "  .  103-114 

CHAPTER  XII 

Bear  River.  The  Bannocks.  A  Swim  with  the  Mercury 
3 8°  below  Zero.  The  Pah  Utes  a  Low  Race.  Poisoned 
Arrows.  Brown's  Hole  and  its  Gay  Winter  Life.  I 
am  Made  Trader.  A  Terrible  Storm.  Our  Horses 
Stolen  by  Blackfeet.  A  Hard  Ride.  We  Recapture 
the  Stock 115-122 

CHAPTER  XIII 

Williams  Returns.  Tygee  the  Bannock.  A  Lucky  13. 
Indians  of  the  Blackfoot  Country.  Life  at  a  Trappers' 
Rendezvous.  Hostile  Bannocks.  Howlack  in  a 
Rage.  We  Prepare  for  Trouble.  Prowling  Wolves 
when  Shot  Prove  to  be  Indians.  Spies  who  did  not 
Return.  Three  Hundred  Warriors  Charge  the  Camp. 
A  Desperate  Fight.  The  Enemy  Routed  .  123-132 

CHAPTER  XIV 

The  Bannocks  Taught  a  Lesson.  Indians  as  Fighters. 
Excited  Umatillas.  The  Walla  Walla  Valley.  Its 
Fish  and  Game.  The  Walla  Wallas.  Tygh  Valley. 
Indians  Salmon  Spearing.  My  First  Sight  of  the 
Columbia.  Latitude  49°.  Vicissitudes  of  the  Trap- 
per's Life .  .  133-140 


Contents 

CHAPTER  XV 

PAGE 

A  Rich  Beaver  Country.  A  Hunter's  Paradise.  Great 
Klamath  Lake.  In  Winter  Quarters.  A  Horse  Pack 
Worth  $7200.  "Boston  Men"  and  "King  George's." 
In  the  Modoc  Country.  We  Dig  Rifle-Pits.  Trap- 
pers' Coats  of  Mail.  Prepared  for  Attack  .  141-149 

CHAPTER  XVI 

The  Modocs  Threaten  to  Rub  us  out.  The  Camp 
Rushed.  Hand-to-Hand  Fighting.  A  Furious  Charge. 
We  Lose  Three  Men.  Modoc  Slaughter.  An  In- 
cident of  the  Modoc  War  of  1856.  The  California 
Rangers.  The  Massacre  of  Bloody  Point  .  150-157 


CHAPTER  XVII 

Honey  Lake  Valley.  Thieving  Indians.  We  Turn  South. 
The  Truckee  River.  Degraded  Red  Men.  In  a 
Mountain  Storm.  Fortune  Favors  the  Brave.  A 
Dismal  Camp.  Snow-Bound.  Glimpse  of  the  Great 
American  Desert.  Camp  on  Carson  River.  A  Pah 
Ute's  Square  Meal.  Gratified  Squaws  and  Skinned 
Beavers.  A  Big  Catch  of  Fur.  Humboldt  Lake. 
Hostile  Utes.  One  of  our  Men  Ambushed  and  Killed. 
A  Sharp  Fight  and  a  Decisive  Victory.  We  Capture 
Forty-three  Horses.  Our  Revenge  .  .  .  158-173 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

We  Move  Camp.  Crestfallen  Trappers.  Blackfoot  Vic- 
tims. Fur  Company  Traders.  Hot  Springs.  Our 
Company  Breaks  up.  Expedition  to  the  Big  Horn 
Mountains.  We  Stand  off  the  Blackfeet.  An  Arro- 
gant Leader  and  a  Coward.  The  ' '  Tartar  Outfit. ' '  174-181 


Contents 


CHAPTER  XIX 

PAGE 

Washakie  again.  The  Joy  of  Youth.  A  Buffalo  Hunt. 
Stinking  Water.  Crow  and  Shoshone  Horse-Racing. 
A  Peaceful  Camp.  Sign-Language.  The  Mexican 
War.  I  Visit  St.  Louis.  Home  is  Changed.  "West- 
ward Ho!"  I  Pilot  an  Oregon  Emigrant  Train. 
Attacked  by  Pawnees.  Out  of  Deference  to  the 
Ladies  we  do  not  Scalp.  Mormon  Emigrants.  Fort 
Hall.  The  Fur  Companies  and  their  Employees.  182-193 

CHAPTER  XX 

Fort  Bridger.  "Doby  Men."  California  Gold.  We  De- 
cide to  Go  to  the  Mines.  Fate  of  Bill  Williams. 
Hunting  and  Trapping  in  the  Big  Horn.  Humpy 
a  War-Party  Leader.  We  Give  the  Easterners  a 
Lesson  in  Indian  Fighting.  Washakie  Identifies  the 
Scalps  as  Pend  Oreilles 194-204 

CHAPTER  XXI 

Bound  for  California.  Furs  and  Gold.  On  the  Old  Camp 
Ground.  An  Undisturbed  Grave.  The  Indians  Hold 
aloof.  Crossing  the  Range.  Sacramento.  We  Trap- 
pers Turn  Miners,  and  Stake  our  Claims.  Barbarous 
Murder. 205-215 

CHAPTER  XXII 

Miners  Killed  by  Indians.  A  Gloomy  Outlook.  The 
"  Mountaineer  Miners."  Rifle  Barrels  for  Crowbars. 
Our  Circus  Entry  into  Nevada  City.  A  Council  of 
War.  Perkins  Advises  Vigorous  Action.  We  Take 
the  Trail.  More  Indian  Outrages.  We  Overtake  the 
Hostiles.  An  Attack  and  a  Stubborn  Defence.  A 
Brave  Chief.  Good  Work  of  the  Sharps  Rifle.  "Sil- 
ver Tip"  Has  his  Ear  Split  and  Russell  Gets  a  Bullet 
through  his  Hat.  The  Indians  Utterly  Routed  and 
Many  Killed.  White  Men's  Scalps  to  Teach  a  Lesson. 
A  Big  Lot  of  Plunder.  The  Trappers  are  Made  to 
Blush.  We  Have  a  Triumphal  Ovation  and  are  Hailed 
as  Avengers.  Our  Fame  Spreads.  .  .  .  2x6-226 


io  Contents 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

PAGE 

Our  Services  in  Request  at  Hangtown  ( Placer ville).  We 
Meet  the  Indians  at  Biglow's  Lake.  A  Desperate 
Charge.  Mexican  War  Veterans  Save  the  Day.  To 
Kill  a  Chief  is  to  Win  the  Battle.  Our  Trained  Horses. 
Fastidious  Trappers  Annoyed  by  Blood  Spots  on  their 
Buckskin  Suits.  The  Owner  Gets  his  Mules.  The 
Trinity  Massacre.  "Tarheads"  Chastised.  The  Trap- 
pers in  the  Rogue  River  and  Modoc  Wars.  The 
Pitt  River  Massacre.  Our  Band  Breaks  up.  Through 
the  Modoc  Country  again.  Fort  Walla  Walla.  I 
Go  as  Scout 227-234 

CHAPTER  XXIV 

Death  of  Russell.  A  Brave  Man  and  a  True  Comrade.  I 
am  Left  alone.  My  Horse  Hickory.  A  Business 
Trip  to  Trade  and  Spy.  In  the  Enemies'  Camp.  My 
Part  nearly  Chokes  me.  An  Extraordinary  Trade. 
We  Get  what  we  Came  for.  The  Spokane  River 
Campaign.  I  Establish  a  Trading- Post  at  Missoula. 
Fort  Benton.  The  Expedition  of  1874  with  General 
Crook.  American  Horse.  Later  Years.  .  .  235-244 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


PORTRAIT  OF  AUTHOR    .        .         .       Frontispiece 

"I  BROKE  THE  Cow's  BACK"         ....       30 

"His  ARROW  LODGED  IN  THE  FLESHY  PART  OF  MY 

HORSE'S  SHOULDER" 38 

WASHAKIE,  CHIEF  OF  THE  SNAKES          ...       64 

"NEXT   MORNING   SOME   UTAH    INDIANS   CALLED 

ON  us  " 96 

FREE  TRADERS 178 

PAWNEE  HORSE  THIEVES 190 

"THE  TRAPPERS    PASSED    THROUGH  THEM   WITH 

THEIR  COLT'S  REVOLVERS"  228 


ii 


THE  WESTERN  MOUNTAINEER 

IN  writing  this  book  the  author  had  only  one 
end  in  view,  that  of  relating  in  a  simple 
way  his  experiences  as  a  mountaineer.  In 
these  days,  when  such  experiences  are  fast  be- 
coming a  thing  of  the  past,  the  story  is  of 
special  interest. 

The  mountaineers  as  a  class  were  unique. 
Life  itself  had  little  value  in  their  estimation. 
They  were  pushing,  adventurous,  and  fearless 
men,  who  thought  nothing  of  laying  down  their 
lives  in  the  service  of  a  friend,  or  often,  it 
might  be,  only  as  a  matter  of  humanity.  Theirs 
was  a  brotherhood  in  which  one  man's  life  was 
entirely  at  the  service  of  any  of  its  members, 
regardless  of  friendship  or  even  of  acquaint- 
anceship. 

Equipped  with  nothing  but  their  skill  and 
endurance,  a  few  ponies,  a  gun  or  two,  and  pro- 
visions enough  to  last  them  for  the  day,  they 
set  out  to  make  their  way  through  a  vast  wil- 
derness that  held  all  the  terrors  of  the  unknown. 

13 


14  The  Western  Mountaineer 

They  became  self-reliant,  and  encountered  ob- 
stacles only  to  overcome  them  with  a  dash  and 
courage  which  amaze  and  delight  us. 

Mr.  William  T.  Hamilton  is  a  living  example 
of  this  type  of  men.  He  is  now  in  his  eighty- 
third  year,  and  is  still  in  full  possession  of  his 
acute  intellect.  He  is  a  general  favorite  wher- 
ever he  is  known,  and  is  familiarly  styled 
"Uncle  Bill."  He  spent  his  whole  life,  from 
the  time  he  was  twenty,  on  the  plains,  and  is 
an  authority  on  Indian  life  and  customs.  He 
was  also  acknowledged  by  all  to  be  the  greatest 
sign-talker  on  the  plains,  either  Indian  or 
white ;  and  was  able  to  converse  with  all  tribes. 
All  Indian  tribes  use  the  same  signs,  though 
speaking  a  different  language. 

Sign-talking  among  Indians  will  soon  be  a 
lost  art,  for  the  present  generation  is  not  hand- 
ing its  knowledge  down  to  its  children.  In 
1882,  while  Mr.  Hamilton  was  a  witness  in  the 
Star  Route  trial  in  Washington,  the  Smithsonian 
Institution  endeavored  to  photograph  these 
signs,  but  with  indifferent  success. 

The  author  has  been  extremely  modest  in 
describing  the  Indian  fights,  stating  only  the 
simple  facts.  These  simple  facts  accentuate 
the  valor  and  intrepidity  of  the  trappers,  when 
brought  to  bay  by  hostile  tribes. 


The  Western  Mountaineer  15 

His  story  also  gives,  for  the  first  time,  an 
account  of  three  years  of  the  life  of  the  great 
scout  and  mountaineer,  Bill  Williams,  one  of 
the  prominent  figures  in  the  early  history  of  the 
plains. 

To  the  efforts  of  these  heroes  we  owe  the  great 
advances  civilization  has  made  in  the  West. 
They  reclaimed  this  vast  and  valuable  territory 
from  the  outlaws  and  the  Indians.  They 
"blazed  the  trail"  that  was  to  lead  the  fron- 
tiersman to  valuable  deposits  and  rich  agricul- 
tural regions.  They  set  an  example  for  courage 
and  perseverance  which  will  keep  their  memory 
always  bright  in  the  hearts  of  true  Americans. 

HlLMA    S.    SlEBER. 
PARK  CITY,  MONTANA,  August,  1905. 


CHAPTER  I 

The  Vote  that  Made  me  an  Indian  Fighter.  St.  Louis.  I  Join 
Bill  Williams' s  Party.  The  Boy  Catches  on.  A  Parley 
with  Kiowas.  Friendly  Cheyennes.  A  Traders'  Trick. 
My  First  Sign-Talk.  A  Good  Trade.  Swift  Runner  my 
Friend.  Athletics  and  Longevity. 

ON  the  river  Till,  in  Cheviot  Hills,  Scotland, 
in  the  year  1825,  twenty-five  men  formed 
a  company  for  the  purpose  of  emigrating. 

These  men  built  themselves  a  bark,  and  when 
ready  to  sail  held  a  council  to  determine  whether 
their  destination  would  be  India  or  America. 
A  vote  was  taken,  which  resulted  in  a  tie,  thus 
forcing  the  captain  to  cast  his  ballot.  He 
voted  for  America,  and  by  so  doing  destined 
me  to  fight  Indians  instead  of  hunting  Bengal 
tigers  in  India.  My  father  was  one  of  the 
company,  and  his  brother  was  the  captain. 

I  was  just  two  years  and  ten  months  of  .age 
when  we  landed  at  New  Orleans. 

My  father  had  means  and  we  travelled  all 
over  the  States,  finally  settling  in  St.  Louis 

17 


1 8        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

eighteen  months  later.  Here  I  remained  until 
I  was  twenty  years  of  age,  receiving  five  years 
of  schooling. 

In  the  meantime  chills  and  fevers  were  un- 
dermining my  constitution,  and  the  doctor 
ordered  a  change  of  climate.  My  father  made 
arrangements  with  a  party  of  hunters  and  trap- 
pers, who  were  in  St.  Louis  at  the  time,  to 
allow  me  to  accompany  them  on  their  next 
trip,  which  would  last  a  year. 

The  party  consisted  of  eight  men,  all  free 
trappers,  with  Bill  Williams  and  Perkins  as 
leaders.  These  two  men  had  had  fifteen  years' 
experience  on  the  plains  amongst  Indians,  and 
had  a  wide  reputation  for  fearless  courage  and 
daring  exploits. 

A  good  trading  outfit  was  purchased,  one 
third  of  which  my  father  paid  for,  giving  me  a 
corresponding  interest  in  the  trip. 

We  started  in  the  spring  of  1842  with  wagons 
and  pack  animals,  making  for  Independence, 
Mo.,  which  was  the  headquarters  for  all  moun- 
taineers in  those  days.  At  Independence  we 
sold  our  wagons  and  rigged  up  a  complete  pack 
outfit,  as  our  route  would  take  us  where  it 
would  be  difficult  for  wagons  to  travel. 

I  was  still  wearing  my  city  clothes,  and 
mountain  men  present  asked  Williams  what  he 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains         19 

was  going  to  do  with  that  city  lad  in  the  moun- 
tains. This  remark  cut  me  deeply,  and  I  hur- 
ried to  the  frontier  store  and  traded  all  my  fine 
clothes,  shirts,  and  dickeys,  which  were  worn 
in  those  days,  for  two  suits  of  the  finest  buck- 
skin, such  as  these  merchants  always  kept  on 
hand  to  fleece  greenhorns  like  myself,  making 
five  hundred  per  cent,  profit  in  the  trade.  Next 
morning  I  appeared  dressed  &  la  prairie,  and 
the  old  trappers  noticed  the  change  and  said, 
''Williams,  that  boy  of  yours  will  make  a 
mountaineer  if  he  catches  on  at  this  rate." 

We  all  went  to  work  getting  our  pack  outfit 
ready,  which  was  accomplished  before  night. 
Next  morning,  the  i$th  of  March,  1842,  we 
started,  bidding  adieu  to  the  remaining  moun- 
tain men,  who  were  all  making  preparations  to 
start  on  their  different  routes  for  trapping  and 
trading.  The  trappers  and  traders  of  that  day 
were  brave  and  reckless  men,  who  never  gave 
a  second  thought  to  the  danger  in  their  calling. 

We  made  good  time  and  reached  Salt  Creek 
on  March  2oth.  Camp  had  just  been  made 
when  we  saw  in  the  distance  a  small  herd  of 
buffalo  coming  directly  towards  us.  Williams 
gave  orders  to  corral  all  stock.  No  second 
order  was  needed  with  these  mountain  men, 
who  acted  in  unison  like  a  flash  when  occasion 


20        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

called  for  action.  The  stock  was  barely  se- 
cured when  the  buffalo  passed  in  close  vicinity 
of  camp,  followed  by  thirty  painted  Kiowa 
warriors.  A  wild  and  savage-looking  outfit 
they  were.  I  had  seen  many  Indians  in  St. 
Louis  at  different  times,  but  none  so  wild  and 
savage  as  these  were.  It  was  at  this  time  that 
I  received  my  first  lesson  in  how  to  deal  with 
wild  Indians,  or,  more  properly  speaking,  how 
to  control  their  overt  acts. 

Our  packs  were  placed  in  a  triangle,  answer- 
ing in  case  of  need  to  a  good  breastwork.  Each 
man  was  armed  with  a  rifle,  two  pistols,  a 
tomahawk,  and  a  large  knife,  commonly  called 
1  'tooth -picker."  Besides  this,  two  of  our  men 
had  bows  and  arrows,  and  were  experts  with 
them. 

The  Indians  came  up  and  examined  our  out- 
fit and  demanded  pay  for  passing  through  their 
country.  Williams  gave  them  to  understand 
that  they  could  not  go  through  the  outfit,  nor 
would  they  receive  pay  for  passing  through  the 
country,  informing  them  that  this  was  Pawnee 
country.  The  Kiowas  at  that  time  were  semi- 
hostile,  robbing  and  killing  when  it  could  be 
done  with  impunity. 

I  stood  by  Williams  during  the  parley,  much 
interested  in  the  conversation,  which  was  en- 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        21 

tirely  by  signs.  The  rest  of  the  men  were  in 
what  we  called  our  fort,  with  stern  and  savage 
looks  on  their  faces. 

Williams  was  well  up  in  Indian  ways  and 
treatment  in  any  and  every  emergency,  and 
finally  gave  the  leader,  or  chief,  as  he  called 
himself,  some  tobacco.  They  departed,  look- 
ing daggers  at  us. 

Williams  informed  me  that  there  was  no 
chief  in  the  outfit,  and  that  it  was  only  a  small 
thieving  party  led  by  a  young  brave,  who  had 
two  feathers  stuck  in  his  scalp-lock. 

We  kept  close  watch  during  the  night,  ex- 
pecting that  the  Indians  would  attempt  to 
steal  some  of  our  stock  or  attack  camp.  Old 
experienced  mountain  men  leave  nothing  to 
chance.  Many  outfits,  within  my  knowledge, 
have  come  to  grief  through  placing  confidence 
in  the  red  man,  who  always  covets  the  belong- 
ings of  the  paleface. 

Nothing  disturbed  us  during  the  night,  and 
in  the  morning  we  started  down  Salt  Creek  to 
the  Platte  River,  where  Williams  expected  to 
find  Cheyennes,  hoping  to  trade  them  out  of 
some  furs.  We  travelled  up  the  Platte  River 
to  Cherry  Creek,  seeing  plenty  of  fresh  Indian 
signs,  but  no  Indians. 

The  camp  was  kept  well  supplied  with  buffalo 


22         My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

and  antelope  steak  and  ribs.  The  ribs  are 
specially  fine,  and  are  highly  appreciated  by 
every  one,  whether  mountaineer  or  dweller  in 
civilization. 

We  camped  on  the  North  Platte  River  about 
two  miles  below  where  Cherry  Creek  empties; 
and  about  sundown  three  young  Indians,  who 
had  been  scouting  for  hostiles,  rode  into  camp. 
They  were  Cheyennes,  and  the  very  ones  that 
Williams  was  looking  for,  as  they  were  gener- 
ally well  supplied  with  all  kinds  of  furs.  The 
Indians  told  us  that  their  village  was  a  short 
distance  up  the  creek.  Williams  gave  them 
tobacco  for  their  chief,  old  White  Antelope,  and 
told  them  that  we  would  visit  the  village  on  the 
following  day.  He  then  invited  them  to  supper 
for  the  purpose  of  finding  out  what  the  tribe 
was  most  in  need  of,  which  is  quite  a  trick  in 
trading  with  Indians,  though  I  believe  the  same 
rule  works  with  white  men.  At  all  events,  I 
never  knew  it  to  fail  to  bring  a  good  trade. 

We  packed  up  early  the  following  morning, 
but  not  before  a  few  Indians  had  paid  us  a 
visit.  They  were  elated  at  our  coming,  for 
they  were  acquainted  with  Williams  and  Per- 
kins, with  whom  they  had  often  traded,  and 
were  on  what  is  called  friendly  terms.  Perkins 
was  the  equal  of  Williams  in  knowledge  of 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        23 

Indian  science  and,  like  him,  was  brave,  cool, 
and  ready  in  extreme  danger. 

We  arrived  at  the  village  about  eleven  o'clock, 
preceded  by  our  leaders,  who  wished  to  select 
the  most  advantageous  camp,  as  it  was  our 
intention  to  remain  several  days. 

We  unpacked  and  put  up  a  wall  tent,  which 
we  used  for  a  store.  Our  stock  was  put  in  the 
chief's  care;  and  we  supplied  the  women  with 
all  the  necessaries  for  a  feast.  This  is  always 
customary  if  you  wish  to  stand  well,  and  must 
be  given  offhand  and  with  generous  impulse. 
Indians  are  close  observers,  and  if  they  see  that 
you  give  with  a  niggardly  hand,  they  will  say, 
"  These  white  men  love  their  goods,  and  will 
give  us  poor  trade.  Let's  trade  nothing  but 
our  poorest  furs."  Such  an  unfavorable  condi- 
tion must  be  avoided  at  any  cost,  as  any  trader 
will  agree  who  has  had  experience  among 
Indians. 

Williams  and  Perkins  had  but  a  limited 
knowledge  of  sign-language,  but  sufficient  to 
do  the  trading.  All  these  signs  I  learned  eas- 
ily, much  to  their  astonishment.  They  both 
claimed  that  they  would  never  become  experts, 
but  that  if  I  kept  on  in  the  way  I  had  started 
I  would  soon  be  the  most  perfect  of  any  white 
man  on  the  plains.  It  came  to  me  without  any 


24        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

effort  and  certainly  surprised  me.  The  other 
men  had  been  observing  my  aptness  and  were 
astonished.  They  were  indifferent  sign-talkers, 
but  good  in  everything  else  that  goes  to  make 
a  thorough  mountaineer.  It  has  always  ap- 
peared strange  to  me  that  so  many  intelligent 
men,  who  had  been  for  so  many  years  among 
Indians,  trading  and  otherwise,  were  so  de- 
ficient in  knowledge  of  sign-language.  Some 
assert  that  facility  in  the  language  is  due  to 
linguistic  talent;  but  be  that  as  it  may,  as  I 
said  before,  the  art  was  acquired  by  me  without 
any  effort. 

All  the  principal  chiefs  assembled  in  White 
Antelope's  lodge,  where  the  customary  smoke 
was  indulged  in,  during  which  we  were  ques- 
tioned as  to  what  our  outfit  consisted  of.  Then 
came  the  feast,  which  included  buffalo  tongue, 
the  choicest  of  meats,  coffee,  hardtack,  and 
molasses.  This  last  article  is  a  favorite  with 
all  Indians. 

In  the  meantime,  Noble,  Docket,  and  myself 
spread  on  blankets  the  various  goods  which 
Williams  had  selected  for  this  trade, — powder, 
half-ounce  balls,  flints,  beads,  paint,  blue  and 
scarlet  cloths,  blankets,  calico,  and  knives. 

A  certain  rule  must  be  complied  with  in 
trading  with  Indians,  which  is  that  you  must 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        25 

not  pay  one  Indian — man  or  woman — one  iota 
more  for  a  robe  or  fur  of  the  same  quality  than 
you  pay  another.  If  you  do,  you  ruin  your 
trade  and  create  antagonistic  feelings  through- 
out the  village. 

The  Indians  stood  in  need  of  all  the  articles 
named,  and  by  sundown  our  tent  was  full  of 
furs  of  the  finest  quality.  We  then  adjourned 
for  supper,  which  was  prepared  by  the  women. 

After  supper  I  accompanied  the  chief's  son, 
Swift  Runner,  through  the  village.  He  was 
about  my  own  age  and  took  a  great  liking  to 
me,  taking  considerable  pains  in  teaching  me 
signs.  He  introduced  me  to  all  the  leading  men 
in  the  village,  telling  them  that  I  was  his  friend. 
I  took  special  notice  of  a  tall  young  boy  with 
a  particularly  large  nose,  a  magnificent  speci- 
men of  a  coming  warrior.  He  was  known  as 
Big  Nose;  but  I  firmly  believe  he  was  the  fa- 
mous Roman  Nose,  who  was  killed  by  General 
Forsyth  on  the  Republican  River  in  1868. 

Swift  Runner  told  me  that  a  large  hunting 
party  was  going  to  start  the  next  morning  after 
buffalo ;  and  that  if  I  would  like  to  go  he  would 
furnish  me  with  a  good  buffalo  horse.  I  asked 
permission  of  Williams,  and  he  consented,  say-  \ 
ing,  "All  right,  boy;  you  can  take  my  horse; 
he  is  one  of  the  best  buffalo  horses  on  the 


26         My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

plains."  I  thanked  him,  saying  that  Swift 
Runner  had  promised  me  one  of  his.  The 
evening  passed  very  pleasantly  for  me,  as  the 
young  folks  entertained  me  to  the  best  of  their 
ability. 

I  was  considered  fairly  good-looking,  with 
smooth  face,  agile  and  quick  in  movements. 
I  was  the  youngest  child  and  my  parents  had 
allowed  me  every  indulgence.  They  owned  a 
farm  just  outside  of  St.  Louis,  and  I  always 
claimed  that  I  was  a  country  raised  boy.  Foxes, 
deer,  and  coons  were  in  abundance,  and  it  fol- 
lowed that  every  boy  would  own  a  pony,  pro- 
viding, of  course,  that  the  parents  could  afford 
it.  At  all  events,  I  possessed  one  of  the  best 
mustangs  in  Missouri — a  little  devil,  which 
would  kick  at  everything  and  everybody  who 
approached  him  except  myself.  My  brothers 
would  say  that  we  were  a  well-matched  pair, 
both  little  devils.  At  home  we  indulged  in  all 
kinds  of  athletic  exercises,  such  as  dumb-bells, 
boxing,  trapeze,  and  single-stick;  and  then  we 
had  constant  practice  with  rifle  and  pistol,  in 
all  of  which  I  became  very  proficient.  I  be- 
lieve that  all  boys  should  be  taught  in  the  same 
way.  It  is  productive  of  longevity,  all  things 
being  physically  equal.  I  am  at  this  writing 
past  eighty-one,  straight  as  an  arrow,  supple 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        27 

and  quick.  I  have  never  had  use  for  glasses. 
Almost  every  day  some  one  asks  me  to  what  I 
attribute  my  suppleness  and  eyesight,  and  I 
answer  that  "  common-sense  philosophy  con- 
forms to  the  teachings  of  hygiene." 


CHAPTER  II 

Buffalo  Hunt  with  Cheyennes.  A  Stirring  Picture.  My  First 
Buffalo.  Perils  of  the  Chase.  We  are  Feasted  on  our 
Return.  Character  of  the  Cheyennes.  Pemmican  and 
Depuyer  a  Substitute  for  Bread.  We  Leave  the  Cheyennes. 

THE  next  morning,  before  daylight,  fifty 
hunters  and  about  twenty  squaws  with 
pack  animals  were  assembled,  ready  to  start  on 
the  buffalo  hunt. 

We  travelled  about  ten  miles,  when  the 
scouts  discovered  a  herd  and  reported  their 
location  to  the  hunting  chief.  He  was  thor- 
oughly acquainted  with  the  topography  of  the 
country  and  led  us  on  a  long  detour,  so  as  to 
get  on  the  leeward  side  of  the  herd.  As  soon 
as  we  reached  there,  the  Indians  stripped  to 
breech-clout  and  advanced,  leading  their  run- 
ning horses. 

The  chief  now  divided  the  hunters  in  two 
divisions,  in  order  to  get  what  buffalo  were 
wanted  in  the  smallest  possible  area.  It  is 
necessary  to  approach  as  close  as  possible  be- 

28 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        29 

fore  raising  the  herd,  for  when  raised  they 
travel  fast  and  no  laggard  of  a  horse  can  over- 
take them. 

Generally  each  division  has  a  leader,  who  gives 
the  order  to  go.  We  rode  to  within  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  of  the  herd  before  the  word  was  given. 

Here  would  have  been  a  grand  scene  for  an 
artist  to  put  on  canvas — this  wild  array  of 
naked  Indians,  sending  forth  yell  after  yell  and 
riding  like  demons  in  their  eagerness  to  bring 
down  the  first  buffalo.  For  this  is  quite  a  feat 
and  is  commented  upon  by  the  whole  village. 

Swift  Runner  and  his  cousin  had  the  fastest 
horses  in  our  division  and  brought  down  the 
first  buffalo,  much  to  the  chagrin  of  many  a 
young  brave,  who  coveted  that  honor  that  they 
might  receive  smiles  from  their  lady  loves. 

My  pony  was  close  on  the  heels  of  the  leaders, 
and  Swift  Runner  pointed  out  a  fat  cow  for 
me.  In  a  few  jumps  I  was  alongside  and  fired, 
greenhorn  like,  at  the  cow's  kidneys.  As  luck 
would  have  it,  however,  I  broke  her  back  and 
she  dropped.  Swift  Runner  gave  a  yell  of  de- 
light at  my  success.  I  should  have  put  the 
shot  just  behind  the  shoulder. 

There  was  yelling  and  shooting  in  every  di- 
rection; and  many  riderless  ponies  were  mixed 
in  with  the  buffalo,  with  Indians  after  them, 


30        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

reckless  if  they  in  turn  were  dismounted  as  their 
friends  had  been,  by  the  ponies  stepping  into 
prairie-dog  or  badger  holes.  Many  an  Indian 
has  come  to  grief  by  having  an  arm  or  leg 
broken  in  this  way.  Ponies  are  sure-footed, 
but  in  a  run  such  as  this  one,  where  over  a 
thousand  buffalo  are  tearing  at  full  speed  over 
the  prairie,  a  dust  is  created  which  makes  it 
impossible  for  the  ponies  to  see  the  holes,  hence 
the  mishaps,  which  are  very  common. 
-  All  the  meat  required  lay  in  an  area  of  three 
quarters  of  a  mile.  I  had  brought  down  four 
and  received  great  praise  from  the  Indians.  I 
could  have  done  much  better,  but,  boy-like,  I 
wanted  to  see  the  Indians  shoot  their  arrows, 
which  many  of  them  used.  One  arrow  was 
sufficient  to  bring  the  buffalo  to  its  knees. 
They  shot  behind  the  shoulder,  sending  the 
arrow  deep  enough  to  strike  the  lungs.  One 
shot  there  is  enough  for  any  animal  in  the 
United  States. 

Now  came  the  butchering,  which  was  com- 
pleted in  two  hours,  and  each  pony  was  packed 
with  three  hundred  pounds  of  the  choicest  of 
meat. 

Several  Indians  who  had  been  thrown,  limped 
somewhat,  but  none  were  seriously  hurt. 

We  arrived  at  the  village  about  sundown  and 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        31 

found  the  whole  tribe  lined  up  to  greet  us  and 
to  ascertain  how  successful  we  had  been. 

A  feast  had  been  prepared  and  was  awaiting 
our  coming;  and  as  for  myself,  I  was  ''wolfish," 
— which  is  a  mountain  man's  expression  for 
hungry, — for  I  had  tasted  no  food  since  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning. 

After  supper  incidents  of  the  hunt  were  gone 
over,  and  listened  to  with  interest  by  all.  Our 
party  congratulated  me  warmly  on  my  success, 
and  it  was  commented  on  also  by  the  Indians, 
which  pleased  the  boys  immensely.  If  a  white 
man  fails  to  acquit  himself  creditably  it  invari- 
ably casts  a  reflection  on  all  whites. 

The  Cheyennes  were  and  are  to-day  a  proud 
and  brave  people.  Their  domestic  habits  were 
commendable  and  could  be  followed  to  advan- 
tage by  many  white  families.  To  violate  the 
marriage  vow  meant  death  or  mutilation.  This 
is  a  rule  which  does  not  apply  to  all  tribes. 
Meat  is  their  principal  food,  although  berries  of 
different  kinds  are  collected  in  season,  as  well 
as  various  roots.  The  kettle  is  on  the  tripod 
night  and  day.  They  use  salt  when  they  can 
get  it,  and  are  very  fond  of  molasses,  sugar, 
coffee,  and  flour.  They  are  hospitable  to  those 
whom  they  respect,  and  the  reverse  to  those 
for  whom  they  have  contempt. 


32        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Most  tribes  of  plains  Indians  dry  their  meat 
by  cutting  it  in  thin  flakes  and  spreading  it  on 
racks  and  poles  in  the  sun;  although  in  damp 
or  wet  weather  it  is  put  inside  of  lodges,  where 
it  will  dry,  but  not  so  well  as  in  the  sun.  Moun- 
tain men  follow  the  same  practice  and  use  the 
meat  when  game  is  scarce,  and  this  often 
occurs. 

Pemmican  is  manufactured  in  the  following 
manner.  The  choicest  cuts  of  meat  are  se- 
lected and  cut  into  flakes  and  dried.  Then  all 
the  marrow  is  collected  and  the  best  of  the  tal- 
low, which  are  dissolved  together  over  a  slow 
fire  to  prevent  burning.  Many  tribes  use  ber- 
ries in  their  pemmican.  Mountaineers  always 
do  unless  they  have  sugar.  The  meat  is  now 
pulverized  to  the  consistency  of  mince  meat; 
the  squaws  generally  doing  this  on  a  flat  rock, 
using  a  pestle,  many  specimens  of  which  may 
be  seen  on  exhibition  in  museums.  A  layer  of 
meat  is  spread,  about  two  inches  thick,  the 
squaws  using  a  wooden  dipper,  a  buffalo  horn, 
or  a  claw  for  this  work.  On  this  meat  is  spread 
a  certain  amount  of  the  ingredients  made  from 
the  marrow  and  tallow,  the  proportion  depend- 
ing on  the  taste.  This  same  process  is  repeated 
until  the  required  amount  is  secured.  One  pound 
of  pemmican  is  equal  to  five  pounds  of  meat. 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        33 

Buffalo  tongues  are  split  the  long  way  and 
dried  for  future  use,  and  thus  prepared  are  a 
delicacy  fit  for  a  prince. 

Another  important  article  of  food,  the  equal 
of  which  is  not  to  be  had  except  from  the  buf- 
falo, is  "depuyer"  (depouille).  It  is  a  fat  sub- 
stance that  lies  along  the  backbone,  next  to  the 
hide,  running  from  the  shoulder-blade  to  the 
last  rib,  and  is  about  as  thick  as  one's  hand  or 
finger.  It  is  from  seven  to  eleven  inches  broad, 
tapering  to  a  feather  edge  on  the  lower  side. 
It  will  weigh  from  five  to  eleven  pounds,  ac- 
cording to  the  size  and  condition  of  the  animal. 
This  substance  is  taken  off  and  dipped  in  hot 
grease  for  half  a  minute,  then  is  hung  up  inside 
of  a  lodge  to  dry  and  smoke  for  twelve  hours. 
It  will  keep  indefinitely,  and  is  used  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  bread,  but  is  superior  to  any  bread 
that  was  ever  made.  It  is  eaten  with  the  lean 
and  dried  meat,  and  is  tender  and  sweet  and 
very  nourishing,  for  it  seems  to  satisfy  the 
appetite.  When  going  on  the  war-path  the 
Indians  would  take  some  dried  meat  and  some 
depuyer  to  live  on,  and  nothing  else,  not  even  if 
they  were  to  be  gone  for  months. 

I  have  been  asked  many  times  regarding 
depuyer  by  different  ones  who  have  been  aston- 
ished when  told  of  its  merits  as  a  substitute  for 


34        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

other  food,  and  surprised  that  it  was  so  little 
known  except  by  mountain  men  and  Indians. 
Trappers  would  pay  a  dollar  a  pound  for  it, 
and  I  do  not  believe  that  bread  would  bring 
that  price  unless  one  were  starving.  As  I 
have  said,  it  is  a  substitute  for  bread;  and 
when  you  are  invited  to  an  Indian  lodge  your 
host  will  present  you  with  depuyer  just  as  you 
would  present  bread  to  a  guest.  You  may  be 
sure  should  they  fail  to  present  you  with 
depuyer  that  you  are  an  unwelcome  guest. 

Williams  concluded  to  move  the  next  day,  so 
he  traded  for  a  few  ponies,  sufficient  to  pack 
the  furs  for  which  we  had  traded. 

When  we  were  ready  to  start,  the  leading 
chiefs  assembled  to  say  good-bye  ("how"),  and 
the  women  presented  me  with  a  half-dozen 
pairs  of  beautifully  embroidered  moccasins. 
This  tribe  excels  all  others  in  bead-work  as 
well  as  in  garnishing  and  painting  robes.  One 
must  bear  in  mind,  however,  that  the  Cheyennes 
of  1842  must  not  be  classed  with  the  Cheyennes 
of  to-day. 

When  I  parted  from  my  young  Indian  friend 
Swift  Runner,  he  presented  to  me  the  pony 
which  I  had  ridden  on  the  buffalo  hunt.  I 
named  him  Runner. 


CHAPTER  III 

Sioux  Village  on  the  South  Platte.  A  Pawnee  Horse  Raid.  We 
Give  Chase.  Wonderful  Endurance  of  the  Indian  Pony. 
The  Stock  Recaptured.  My  First  Shot  at  an  Indian.  Re- 
turn with  Pawnee  Scalps.  Coup-Sticks.  Counting  Coups. 

IT  was  the  intention  of  Williams  to  strike  for 
the  South  Platte  River,  in  the  vicinity  of 
Laramie  River,  where  he  expected  to  meet 
with  fur  buyers,  who  would  be  returning  to 
Green  River;  and  either  to  dispose  of  our  furs 
or  have  them  forwarded  to  St.  Louis,  which  at 
that  time  was  the  principal  fur-buying  city  in 
the  United  States. 

A  few  days'  travel  brought  us  to  the  South 
Platte  River,  and  at  a  point  fifteen  miles  east  of 
Laramie  River  we  found  a  Sioux  village.  Big 
Thunder  was  the  chief,  and  he  requested  us  to 
camp  as  his  people  wanted  to  trade.  The  Sioux 
were  friendly  in  those  days,  especially  to  traders 
and  trappers,  and  we  had  a  royal  time. 

Just  before  daylight  the  following  morning, 
an  alarm  was  given  in  the  village  and  all  the 

35 


36        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

men  hurried  out,  to  find  that  the  Pawnees — 
mortal  enemies  of  the  Sioux — had  run  off  about 
one  hundred  head  of  ponies  which  had  been 
turned  out  to  graze  a  short  distance  from  camp. 
The  number  included  two  mules  and  three  ponies 
belonging  to  our  outfit. 

As  soon  as  the  news  was  received,  fifty  young 
warriors  hastened  to  saddle  their  best  ponies. 
Williams  signified  his  intention  of  going,  but  I 
told  him  that  he  was  too  old,  and  that  Noble 
and  myself  would  go  and  bring  back  the  stock. 

We  started  with  the  Indians,  under  the  leader- 
ship of  Young  Thunder,  a  fine  specimen  of  a 
coming  chief.  I  rode  my  pony  Runner. 

We  soon  struck  the  trail  of  the  Pawnees  and 
followed  it  down  the  south  side  about  ten  miles, 
and  then  crossed  to  the  north  side  of  the  river. 
We  could  tell  by  the  appearance  of  the  trail 
that  they  were  only  a  short  distance  ahead  of  us. 

The  Sioux  now  discarded  all  their  cloth- 
ing, excepting  leggings  and  breech-clouts,  and 
mounted  their  war-horses,  which  had  up  to  this 
point  been  led. 

I  put  a  pad  on  my  Runner.  These  pads  are 
made  by  filling  two  sacks  with  antelope  hair. 
The  sacks  are  generally  made  of  buckskin,  are 
seven  or  eight  inches  in  diameter,  and  rest  on 
each  side  of  the  horse's  backbone,  being  sewed 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        37 

together  on  top  with  buckskin.  Material  is 
fastened  to  each  side  for  stirrups  and  cinch. 
They  would  be  a  curiosity  in  the  East,  but  are 
light  and  elastic,  and  a  horse  feels  no  incon- 
venience from  them  and  can  travel  twenty  miles 
farther  in  a  day  than  under  a  saddle. 

We  started  at  a  canter,  Young  Thunder  in 
the  lead.  After  going  about  eight  miles,  we 
noticed  that  sand  was  still  sliding  in  the  hoof- 
tracks  ahead.  This  was  a  sure  indication  that 
the  Pawnees  were  but  a  short  distance  in  ad- 
vance. We  now  went  at  about  half  speed,  the 
Indians  becoming  alert. 

Passing  over  a  divide  we  could  plainly  see  a 
cloud  of  dust  about  two  miles  in  advance.  At 
about  the  same  time  the  Pawnees  must  have 
discovered  us,  for  there  appeared  a  scattering 
just  as  if  stock  was  being  urged  to  greater 
speed. 

We  gained  rapidly  on  the  Pawnees,  and  were 
soon  close  enough  to  determine  that  the  party 
consisted  of  twelve.  They  were  trying  their 
best  to  get  the  herd  to  a  cottonwood  grove  on 
a  bend  of  the  Platte  River. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  I  discovered  the  won- 
derful endurance  of  the  Indian  pony.  Young 
Thunder  gave  a  war-whoop,  which  was  the  sig- 
nal for  a  charge.  The  ponies  bounded  forward 


38         My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

as  an  engine  when  the  throttle  is  thrown  wide 
open. 

The  Pawnees  heard  the  yell  and  left  the  herd 
of  stolen  stock  and  made  for  the  grove,  fran- 
tically urging  their  ponies  to  greater  speed. 
Two  of  them  went  to  sleep  before  they  reached 
cover,  ten  getting  safely  to  the  grove,  thankful 
of  saving  their  lives,  knowing  that  the  Sioux 
would  be  satisfied  with  the  two  scalps  and  the 
recaptured  herd. 

Several  of  the  ponies  were  close  to  the  grove, 
and  Noble  and  I  dashed  at  full  speed  and 
turned  them  away.  The  Pawnees  fired  several 
shots  at  us,  but  the  bullets  went  wide  of  their 
mark.  As  we  were  within  one  hundred  yards 
of  the  timber,  I  wheeled  and  shot,  but  it  was  a 
waste  of  ammunition,  as  no  Indians  were  in 
sight. 

When  we  returned  to  our  party,  they  had 
the  two  Pawnees  stripped  and  scalped.  I  asked 
the  Sioux  if  they  did  not  intend  to  charge  the 
Pawnees  in  the  grove.  Young  Thunder,  who 
had  been  a  close  observer  of  our  actions  in 
recovering  the  ponies,  smiled,  and  shook  us  by 
the  hand. 

It  is  a  question  in  my  mind  if  the  Sioux 
would  have  recovered  these  ponies  but  for  us. 
They  will  not  approach  a  solid  body  of  timber 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        39 

with  a  heavy  growth  of  underbrush.  I  thought 
then  that  Indians  were  not  such  terrible  fighters 
as  some  writers  made  them  appear;  and  my 
first  impressions  have  never  changed,  although 
I  have  contended  against  some  who  apparently 
knew  no  fear,  but  they  are  exceptions. 

We  reached  the  village  in  due  season,  Young 
Thunder  leading  the  party,  the  warriors  follow- 
ing singing  scalp  songs  and  carrying  the  Pawnee 
scalps  tied  on  the  end  of  "coup"  sticks.  The 
whole  village  turned  out  to  greet  us,  and  all 
were  yelling  like  furies.  They  could  tell  by  the 
song  of  the  warriors  that  no  loss  nor  damage 
had  been  sustained,  which  is  not  always  the 
case. 

Pandemonium  reigned  all  night,  with  singing 
and  dancing  and  the  recounting  of  the  war- 
riors' bravery  in  taking  two  scalps  and  recap- 
turing the  ponies  stolen  by  those  "dogs  of 
Pawnees." 

When  Williams  heard  of  my  going  close  to 
the  timber,  he  said:  "I  shall  have  to  keep  you 
at  home  next  time,  if  I  expect  to  return  you  to 
your  parents.  You  are  a  young  fool  to  ap- 
proach close  to  timber  where  hostile  Indians  are 
concealed." 

I  told  Williams  that  three  of  our  ponies  were 
in  the  bunch  and  that  I  did  not  want  to 


40        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

return  without  them.  I  thought  the  Sioux  were 
cowards,  but  I  have  learned  by  experience  since 
that  a  white  man,  on  the  plains  at  least,  will  risk 
where  an  Indian  dreads. 

The  Pawnees  had  not  acted  with  good  judg- 
ment in  trying  to  drive  off  one  hundred  head 
of  horses  so  near  daylight.  They  should  have 
realized  that  the  Sioux  would  be  on  their  trail 
in  a  short  while,  mounted  on  their  best  horses. 

Indians  are  credited  with  being  extraordina- 
rily cunning  in  stealing  horses,  the  Pawnees 
especially  so,  which  is  the  reason  other  tribes 
call  them  "Wolf  Indians."  The  sign  for  wolf 
is  the  index  finger  and  thumb  spread  apart, 
other  three  fingers  ends  to  palm,  the  hand 
held  up  to  the  side  of  the  head.  This  is  the 
uniform  sign  both  for  wolf  and  for  Pawnee. 

I  have  made  mention  of  coup-sticks.  While 
all  tribes  do  not  call  it  by  the  name  "coup,"  the 
custom  and  usages  of  all  are  identical.  These 
sticks  are  generally  made  of  willow,  and  are 
from  seven  to  ten  feet  in  length  and  one  inch 
in  diameter.  The  bark  is  peeled  and  they  are 
painted  with  vermilion,  after  the  fashion  of 
barbers'  poles.  Warriors  invariably  carry  these 
sticks  in  action,  and  when  a  foe  falls  the  one 
who  strikes  him  with  a  stick  claims  the  "coup," 
or  one  brave  action  done.  A  brave's  valor  is 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        41 

determined  by  the  number  of  ''coups"  he  has 
to  his  credit.  Sometimes  a  half  dozen  Indians 
strike  the  same  foe,  and  each  one  claims  a  coup 
and  is  entitled  to  and  gets  part  of  the  scalp. 


CHAPTER  IV 

Fur-Trade  Rivalries.  "Free  Traders"  and  the  Companies. 
Wealth  of  the  Sioux.  War-Parties  and  Singing.  Indian 
Revenge.  We  Sell  our  Furs  for  Good  Prices.  Bill  Williams 
a  Diplomat.  Visited  by  Arapahoes.  We  Trade,  Feast,  and 
Smoke.  A  Threatening  Party  of  Crows.  "Business 
Diplomacy." 

WE  started  the  next  day  for  the  Laramie 
River,  where  we  expected  to  visit  an- 
other Sioux  village,  whose  chief  was  Black 
Moon;  also  to  meet  some  traders  from  Green 
River,  men  representing  the  Northwest  Terri- 
tory Company,  and  some  opposition  traders. 
There  existed  great  rivalry  among  them  to  se- 
cure their  furs  and  robes  from  "free  trappers," 
as  our  outfit  was  classed.  Corporate  companies 
were  not  friendly  to  free  traders  and  trappers, 
and  made  it  very  unpleasant  for  them  when 
opportunity  offered.  In  those  days  the  cream 
of  men  in  the  mountains  belonged  to  the  free 
traders  and  trappers,  and  it  followed  that  cor- 
porations had  no  "walk  away,"  as  mountain 
phrase  had  it. 

42 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        43 

The  Sioux  were  very  wealthy  from  an  Indian 
standpoint,  owning  vast  numbers  of  horses  and 
mules  and  furs  and  robes  and  they  were  gener- 
ally considered  "nabobs."  They  roamed  the 
plains  with  their  villages,  so  as  to  be  in  close 
proximity  to  buffalo,  of  which  they  required 
large  numbers,  as  meat  was  their  principal  food, 
and  sent  out  war-parties  against  their  enemies, 
who  were  numerous  and  included  Pawnees, 
Crows,  Utes,  and  lowas. 

So  it  followed  that  they  kept  constantly  on 
the  go,  and  for  recreation,  when  a  war-party 
had  returned  from  a  successful  raid,  bringing 
back  scalps  and  ponies,  all  women  related 
to  the  party  would  decorate  themselves  in  all 
their  barbaric  finery  and  promenade  through 
the  village  singing  and  chanting  the  bravery  of 
their  lovers  and  husbands,  and  making  all  the 
other  women  in  the  village  feel  abashed.  This 
is  the  secret  spring  of  war-parties  constantly 
going  out.  The  singing,  dancing,  and  feasting 
are  continued  several  nights  and  days.  Very 
different  are  the  conditions  when  war-parties 
return  defeated.  A  gloom  is  cast  over  the  vil- 
lage. Relatives  of  those  who  are  slain  or  are 
missing  cut  off  fingers  and  in  other  ways  muti- 
late themselves;  and  a  council  is  held  by  the 
medicine  men  to  devise  some  plan  by  which 


44        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

they  may  get  revenge  on  the  enemy.  Bear  in 
mind — and  this  is  true  of  all  tribes,  notwith- 
standing contrary  statements  by  some  writers 
who  have  had  no  general  knowledge  of  the 
character  of  the  Indian,  either  on  the  plains 
or  in  the  mountains — an  Indian  never  for  a 
moment  considers  himself  the  aggressor.  Suffi- 
cient for  him  is  the  fact  that  some  member  of 
the  village  has  been  lost. 

We  reached  Black  Moon's  village  on  the 
Laramie  River  the  next  day,  camping  near  the 
chief's  lodge. 

The  story  of  our  recovering  the  stock  and  the 
taking  of  two  Pawnee  scalps  had  preceded  us, 
and  the  young  warriors  wanted  to  see  the  young 
paleface  who  had  ridden  close  to  the  grove. 
They  looked  upon  that  as  a  great  feat,  though 
I  failed  to  see  it  in  any  such  light.  As  it  was, 
it  made  me  many  friends  among  the  young 
men.  The  older  ones,  however,  said  that  I  was 
a  young  fool  and  would  lose  my  scalp  some  day. 

We  traded  for  considerable  fur  at  this  camp, 
which  somewhat  astonished  Williams,  as  there 
were  three  traders  on  the  Platte  River.  The  rea- 
son was,  as  I  have  already  stated,  that  the  traders 
were  not  up  to  their  business  in  such  ways  as 
paying  uniform  prices  for  furs  of  the  same  quality. 

A  war-party  of  young  men  came  into  camp 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        45 

that  night  from  the  Sweetwater  River  and  in- 
formed us  that  a  trader  with  wagons  would  be 
along  the  next  day. 

The  next  morning  we  unpacked  all  our  furs, 
classifying  and  rebaling  them.  Williams  took 
great  pains  to  instruct  me  in  all  this,  saying 
that  he  intended  to  make  me  the  equal  of  any 
one  in  the  business,  as  it  might  be  useful  in  later 
years.  I  often  think  that  he  had  a  presenti- 
ment that  I  would  never  return  to  civilization. 

In  the  afternoon  an  old  trader  named  Vasques 
arrived  with  wagons  and  oxen,  and  was  aston- 
ished to  see  all  the  furs  we  had  collected.  He 
looked  surly,  but  this  did  not  worry  Williams, 
who  understood  his  disposition.  Williams 
should  have  been  engaged  by  the  government 
as  a  diplomat,  for  he  could  outwit  any  and  all 
of  these  arrogant  corporate  traders. 

At  any  rate,  Vasques  saw  that  his  only  chance 
to  get  furs  and  robes  was  to  curb  his  temper 
and  come  to  terms,  which  he  did,  paying  us 
$750  in  cash  for  the  beaver  and  other  small  furs, 
and  a  quantity  of  Indian  goods,  of  which  he  had 
a  fine  assortment,  for  the  robes. 

Williams  got  the  best  of  him  on  every  turn. 
He  either  had  to  trade  with  us  or  haul  his  In- 
dian goods  back  to  the  States,  which  he  was  not 
inclined  to  do. 


46        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

When  departing  the  next  day,  Vasques  said 
that  he  would  make  this  business  of  free  trading 
most  interesting  for  all  concerned.  I  admired 
Williams's  reply,  which  was,  "Good,  Mr.  Vas- 
ques; remember  I  will  be  on  hand  to  take  an 
active  part  in  the  matter  when  it  occurs/' 

We  now  had  fourteen  pack-horses,  loaded 
with  a  fine  assortment  of  Indian  goods,  and 
moved  up  the  Platte  River  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Sweetwater. 

While  making  camp  six  young  Arapahoes  put 
in  an  appearance  and  told  us  that  their  village 
was  a  short  distance  up  the  Platte  River.  It 
consisted  of  one  hundred  lodges,  with  Yellow- 
Bear  as  chief.  This  was  old  Yellow  Bear,  father 
of  the  one  killed  on  Sand  Creek  by  Colonel 
Chivington. 

Williams  rode  back  with  the  Indians  to  their 
village.  His  object  was  to  have  the  Indians 
bring  their  robes  and  furs  to  our  camp,  as  we 
intended  making  a  long  detour  before  reaching 
Green  River.  Yellow  Bear  and  his  son  returned 
with  him  to  inspect  our  goods,  and,  being  satis- 
fied, returned  to  the  village.  We  stood  guard 
that  night,  as  we  were  in  a  country  dangerous 
from  outside  war-parties. 

The  next  morning  the  village  arrived  early. 
They  were  wild-looking  Indians,  and  not  to  be 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        47 

trusted.  They  were  a  thieving  outfit,  as  the 
whites  found  out  in  after  years. 

Trade  opened  at  once,  and  by  noon  we  had 
one  hundred  robes  and  a  quantity  of  other  furs. 
Then  came  a  feast  and  a  smoke  with  the  chiefs, 
after  which  they  all  returned  to  their  village. 

We  hurried  in  packing  up,  for  Williams 
wanted  to  reach  the  Independence  Rock  cross- 
ing of  Sweetwater  River  as  soon  as  possible. 
He  was  in  hope  of  meeting  another  wagon  out- 
fit that  might  be  coming  from  Green  River,  and 
to  which  we  might  dispose  of  our  furs.  We 
reached  the  crossing  the  next  day  at  noon,  but 
found  only  Vasques's  wagon  trail. 

It  was  while  at  this  camp  that  I  had  my  first 
introduction  to  Crow  Indians,  when  Williams 
halted  a  war-party,  or,  more  properly  speaking, 
a  thieving  party  of  twenty-three,  within  fifty 
yards  of  camp.  We  had  all  our  packs  placed 
in  a  square,  the  robes  making  a  fine  breastwork. 

The  Crows  were  very  insolent  and  came  very 
near  bringing  on  a  fight.  In  the  first  place, 
they  wanted  a  feast.  Then  our  best  horses, 
giving  in  exchange  poor  ones.  They  also  de- 
manded blankets  and  furs,  all  of  which  Williams 
gave  them  to  understand  they  could  not  have. 
They  next  wanted  to  examine  our  outfit  and 
trade,  but  Williams  knew  that  they  had  nothing 


48         My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

to  trade  and  he  told  them  so,  and  also  advised 
them  to  leave.  At  this  they  became  more 
insulting. 

We  had  two  large  shotguns  which  we  used 
on  guard  at  night,  as  they  were  most  effective 
weapons  at  close  range,  being  loaded  with  a 
half -ounce  ball  and  five  buckshot.  One  tall 
Indian,  diabolically  painted,  stepped  towards 
where  I  was  standing  and  I  brought  my  gun  to 
bear  upon  him.  At  this  he  said,  "Mas-to-shera 
mo-mo-nar-ka,"  and  retreated.  Perkins  told 
me  that  meant,  "  White  man  fool." 

Finally  the  Crows  asked  for  some  tobacco, 
which  Williams  gave  them  with  the  under- 
standing that  they  were  to  leave  at  once,  and 
they  did,  casting  in  sign  to  us,  "Mean  white 
men,"  all  of  which  I  understood. 

I  felt  very  much  like  resenting,  but  was  re- 
strained by  Williams,  who  said  that  I  must 
not  heed  such  things  from  Indians.  After  many 
years  of  experience  I  fully  agree  with  him. 

We  remained  in  this  camp  two  days  and  then 
started  for  the  upper  Wind  River  country, 
hoping  to  meet  the  Shoshones,  who  frequently 
remained  in  that  section  until  May,  furs  still 
being  in  their  prime.  It  is  amusing  to  hear 
men  from  the  East  claim  that  beaver  and  otter 
are  only  trapped  in  the  winter.  Such  is  not 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        49 

the  case,  as  beaver  and  otter  trapped  in  April 
and  May  are  classed  Ai.  I  have  sold  to  expert 
fur  buyers  furs  trapped  in  June,  and  these  same 
buyers  credited  themselves  with  being  able  to 
tell,  by  the  appearance  of  the  fur,  in  just  what 
month  in  the  year  the  furs  were  trapped. 

On  our  third  day's  travel  we  met  a  trader 
named  Pomeroy,  who  had  Indian  goods  on 
hand,  expecting  to  trade  with  the  Indians  on 
the  trip  to  the  States.  Williams  told  him  that 
all  the  Indians  he  would  be  liable  to  meet  were 
without  furs,  which  was  stretching  it  somewhat. 
We  then  unpacked  our  furs  and  robes  and 
offered  to  trade  for  cash  or  goods.  It  required 
half  a  day  to  consummate  the  trade,  we  receiv- 
ing $300  in  cash  and  a  quantity  of  Indian  goods. 
Williams  told  me  afterwards  that  Pomeroy 
would  not  make  much  on  that  trade.  I  think 
that  Williams  must  have  hypnotized  Pomeroy, 
as  he  overlooked  the  important  fact  that  at  this 
season  of  the  year  Indians  were  still  dressing 
robes  and  would  continue  to  do  so  for  six  weeks 
to  come,  and  Pomeroy  would  have  had  plenty 
of  opportunities  to  trade  with  villages  on  his 
way  down  Platte  River.  But  Williams  made 
him  believe  that  the  villages  were  leaving  for 
buffalo,  which  was  not  so,  as  they  had  an  abun- 
dance of  meat  and  buffalo  were  close  by. 


50        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Williams  was  the  soul  of  honor,  and  when  I 
questioned  him  about  his  statements  to  Pom- 
eroy,  he  smiled  and  said,  "Diplomacy."  I 
have  never  forgotten  that,  and  after  years  of 
observation  I  find  that  honorable  merchants 
follow  the  same  tactics.  Self-interest  predom- 
inates among  all,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest. 
They  evade  the  literal  truth,  calling  their  con- 
duct ''business  diplomacy." 


CHAPTER  V 

In  a  Dangerous  Country.  We  Find  a  Moccasin  and  Prepare 
for  Trouble.  Attacked  in  the  Night  by  Blackfeet.  The 
Enemy  Repulsed.  Scalps  Taken.  Pursuit.  Williams  a 
Reckless  Indian  Fighter.  I  Lift  my  First  Scalp.  We  Wipe 
Out  the  Entire  Party.  Beaver  Trapping  an  Art. 

WE  continued  on  towards  Little  Wind 
River  and  crossed  a  most  rugged  and 
romantic  country,  whose  lofty  sky-piercing 
peaks  ascended  to  and  above  the  clouds.  On 
the  northwest  were  the  Wind  River  Mountains, 
which  are  the  main  Rockies;  to  the  eastward 
the  Big  Horn  Mountains,  world  renowned  in 
their  isolated  grandeur; — the  home  of  all  noble 
game,  such  as  buffalo,  elk,  antelope,  deer,  and 
bear.  It  is  a  hunter's  paradise.  Here  the  dif- 
ferent tribes  of  Indians  met  on  their  annual 
hunt,  and  the  meet  was  often  the  scene  of 
conflict. 

We  saw  no  Indian  sign  until  we  reached  Little 
Wind  River,  where  Evans  and  Russell  picked 
up  a  moccasin.  This  was  dangerous  country. 

51 


52         My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Hostile  war-parties  were  numerous,  and  were 
liable  to  make  their  appearance  at  almost  any 
hour  of  day  or  night. 

Williams  selected  a  strong  position  for  camp, 
as  he  considered  this  the  most  dangerous  coun- 
try on  the  plains,  being  constantly  invaded  by 
war-parties  of  Blackfeet,  Bloods,  Piegans,  and 
Crows.  The  trappers  and  Shoshones  were  kept 
constantly  on  the  alert,  to  avoid  losing  their 
stock  and  even  their  scalps.  Williams  was  of 
the  opinion  that  the  tracks  discovered  were 
made  by  a  party  of  Blackfeet,  as  they  almost 
always  went  to  war  on  foot. 

Beaver  and  otter  seemed  plentiful,  and  the 
men  set  traps.  That  night  we  slept  with  arms 
by  our  side  ready  for  instant  action;  and  kept 
close  guard,  as  it  was  almost  a  certainty  that 
the  Indians  had  discovered  us  and  would  try 
for  our  stock.  Noble  and  I  stood  first  guard, 
and  Evans  and  Russell  second. 

About  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  two  shots 
brought  us  all  to  our  feet.  Immediately  after 
the  shots  we  heard  yell  after  yell  from  the  In- 
dians, and  they  began  firing  at  the  camp  with 
guns  and  bows  and  arrows.  Evans  and  Russell 
had  killed  two  Indians  with  their  first  shots. 
We  fired  at  the  flashes  of  the  Indian  guns; 
these  were  Hudson  Bay  flint-locks  and  made 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        53 

a  very  decided  flash  when  discharged.  The 
weapon  is  not  over-effective,  but  will  do  damage 
at  short  range.  Some  of  our  shots  must  have 
taken  effect,  as  the  Indians  fell  back,  though 
they  continued  sending  shots  to  camp  until 
close  to  daylight. 

Several  of  our  men,  myself  included,  wanted 
to  charge,  but  Williams  would  not  allow  it, 
as  he  considered  it  dangerous  charging  an  un- 
known number  of  Indians  at  night,  although  he 
had  concluded  that  there  were  not  more  than 
a  dozen  in  number,  if  so  many. 

Just  before  daylight  the  Indians  attempted  to 
recover  their  slain  comrades.  They  are  expert 
in  crawling  through  grass,  but  our  men  were  up 
to  all  their  tactics  and  prevented  them  and 
added  one  more  to  keep  company  with  the  two 
already  sent  to  their  happy  hunting-grounds. 
The  Indians  gave  a  yell  of  despair  and  departed, 
sending  after  us  a  few  parting  shots. 

Daylight  was  now  appearing  in  the  east  and 
objects  could  be  seen  at  a  distance.  Noble  and 
Russell  ''lifted  the  hair"  of  the  three  dead 
Indians,  and  as  they  had  had  some  experience 
in  scalping  it  was  easily  accomplished.  The 
method  of  scalping  was  to  run  the  knife  around 
the  head  under  the  hair,  cutting  through  to  the 
skull  bone;  then  taking  hold  of  the  scalp-lock 


54        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

and  giving  it  a  quick  jerk,  the  scalp  would  come 
off  and  was  afterwards  dried  on  a  hoop. 

The  reason  that  mountaineers  scalped  In- 
dians was  in  retaliation,  and  also  because 
Indians  dread  going  to  their  happy  hunting- 
grounds  without  their  scalps.  For  this  reason 
they  will  risk  a  great  deal  to  get  their  slain  after 
a  battle. 

We  discovered  a  trail  of  blood  leading  down 
the  river,  from  the  place  where  they  had  fired 
the  shots  into  camp,  showing  that  some  of  our 
return  shots  had  been  effective. 

Five  of  our  ponies  had  been  wounded,  one  so 
severely  that  we  killed  him  to  put  him  out  of 
misery. 

Williams,  enraged  at  the  injury  that  had  been 
done,  was  determined  to  punish  the  Indians 
still  further.  Leaving  two  men  in  camp  he 
ordered  the  rest  to  follow  him. 

The  experienced  mountain  man  is  as  keen 
as  an  Indian  on  a  trail,  and  no  difficulty  was 
found  in  following  this  one. 

About  five  miles  down  the  river  a  small 
stream  put  in  from  the  north  side.  This 
stream  was  about  two  miles  in  length,  and  at 
its  head  was  a  spring  surrounded  by  a  small 
grove  of  quaking  aspens.  The  Indians  had  gone 
up  this  stream,  and  we  were  soon  close  upon  them. 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        55 

Going  at  a  rapid  rate  for  nearly  a  mile,  we 
came  to  a  rise,  and  when  on  top  we  were  within 
plain  view  of  the  Indians,  who  were  hurrying 
along,  trying  to  get  two  of  their  wounded  com- 
rades to  the  grove.  They  were  about  half  a 
mile  in  advance  of  us.  To  keep  them  from 
reaching  the  grove,  Williams  dashed  to  the 
right,  where  there  was  a  level  bench  or  prairie,  so 
as  to  give  our  horses  a  chance  to  go  at  top  speed. 

The  Indians  saw  in  a  moment  that  they 
would  be  cut  off  from  the  grove,  and  they  made 
for  a  patch  of  willows  and  stunted  box-elders 
just  below. 

There  were  eleven  of  them,  and  we  had  them 
cornered,  as  trappers  say. 

From  the  brow  of  the  hill  on  our  side  to  the 
Indians  in  the  willows  it  was  about  one  hundred 
yards,  and  Docket  tried  a  shot.  The  Indians 
returned  fire,  wounding  him  in  the  thigh.  It 
was  a  flesh  wound,  but  bled  freely.  As  there 
were  a  quantity  of  boulders  close  by,  Williams 
gave  orders  to  roll  them  up  to  the  brow  of  the 
hill  for  breastworks. 

Leaving  Evans,  Russell,  and  Docket  behind 
this  breastwork,  with  orders  to  keep  shooting 
at  the  Indians,  Williams  told  Noble  and  me  to 
follow  him  to  the  grove  without  letting  the 
Indians  notice  our  departure. 


56        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

In  the  grove  we  cached  ourselves,  although 
I  did  not  understand  Williams' s  plan.  Its  wis- 
dom was  soon  apparent. 

The  men  on  the  brow  of  the  hill  kept  up  a 
steady  fire,  and  the  Indians  realized  that  they 
would  be  annihilated  if  they  remained  in  their 
present  position. 

Six  of  them  made  a  dash  for  the  grove,  and 
when  they  came  within  one  hundred  yards  Wil- 
liams gave  orders  to  shoot.  We  made  a  lucky 
shot,  and  three  of  them  fell  face  down.  The 
other  three  gave  a  yell  of  despair  and  ran  up 
the  hill.  We  mounted  and  dashed  after  them. 
The  Indians  were  panic-stricken  when  they  saw 
us  so  suddenly  mounted. 

I  now  saw  what  Williams  was  in  a  fight. 
Reckless  to  an  extreme,  he  dashed  at  the  Indians, 
who  wheeled  and  shot  but  missed.  A  tall  In- 
dian was  in  advance  and  Williams  made  for 
him,  and  in  a  shorter  time  than  it  takes  to 
write  it,  there  were  three  more  dead  Indians. 
Williams  had  identified  them  as  Blackfeet,  and 
this  was  afterwards  confirmed  by  the  Shoshones 
when  shown  the  scalps. 

Williams  now  said:  "Boy,  this  is  your  first 
opportunity.  Lift  the  scalp  from  that  buck. 
It  belongs  to  you." 

Of  course  I  knew  how  to  scalp,  and  soon  ac- 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        57 

complished  the  feat,  much  to  his  satisfaction, 
for  he  said,  ''You  are  broke  in  now.  You  will 
do." 

Flattering,  I  thought,  coming  from  such  an 
old  Indian  fighter  as  he  was.  We  went  after 
the  first  three  and  then  returned  to  the  men  at 
the  breastwork  and  found  them  waiting  for  us. 

Many  men  would  have  left  those  five  Indians 
in  the  willows,  satisfied  with  the  revenge.  Not 
so  with  Williams. 

Some  of  our  men  told  me  that  he  was  con- 
sidered the  hardest  man  on  the  plains  to  down 
in  a  fight  with  the  Indians.  He  was  never 
known  to  quit  when  once  started.  It  was  a 
fight  to  a  finish. 

It  struck  me  forcibly  in  this  instance,  when 
he  replied  to  my  question  of  what  he  was  going 
to  do.  He  looked  at  me  peculiar  like  and  said : 
''There  are  five  Indians  down  there  who  shot 
at  and  insulted  us.  They  shall  have  what  they 
would  have  given  us  had  they  been  successful 
in  their  attack.  Boy,  never,  if  possible,  let  an 
Indian  escape  who  has  once  attacked  you."  I 
was  receiving  a  practical  lesson. 

He  now  said:  " I  want  one  of  you  to  go  with 
me.  The  rest  of  you  throw  some  shots  at  the 
Indians  while  we  get  to  the  gulch  and  approach 
them  from  below." 


58        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

But  these  fearless  trappers  held  Bill  in  too 
great  estimation,  and  they  all  said,  "Once,  old 
chieftain,  your  orders  will  be  disobeyed.  We 
cannot  afford  to  lose  you." 

Russell  said,  "Evans  and  I  will  undertake 
that  job.  You  cover  us." 

Down  they  bounded  to  the  gulch  below. 
Both  were  quick  on  foot,  with  eyes  like  eagles. 
They  had  been  in  many  desperate  fights,  and 
understood  the  danger  of  approaching  Indians 
in  ambush.  A  wounded  Indian  is  a  dangerous 
animal  when  approached  by  an  enemy. 

We  kept  up  a  steady  fire  until  our  men  were 
seen  to  be  close  to  the  willows.  Evans  and 
Russell  now  shot  and  bounded  forward,  yelling 
like  Indians. 

We  also  rushed  down.  One  wounded  Indian 
had  arrow  in  bow,  ready  to  shoot,  but  he  was 
not  quick  enough.  In  a  very  short  time  all 
was  over. 

We  found  in  the  plunder  two  fine  rifles,  am- 
munition, knives,  and  other  articles  belonging 
to  trappers.  Williams  said  that  some  small 
party  of  trappers  had  been  surprised  by  these 
Blackfeet,  and  in  a  few  days  we  found  that 
such  was  the  case. 

After  collecting  all  the  plunder  we  returned 
to  camp.  When  Perkins  saw  what  we  brought 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        59 

back  he  said,  "Well  done,  chieftain!  Blackfeet 
had  better  give  you  the  go-by." 

Williams  smiled  and  answered,  "No  better 
than  you  would  have  done."  Either  one  of 
these  men  would  have  died  for  the  other. 

As  we  were  "wolfish" — a  mountain  phrase 
for  hunger — we  did  ample  justice  to  the  feast 
which  had  been  prepared. 

The  men  then  went  to  look  after  the  traps, 
and  as  I  wanted  to  know  all  about  trapping  I 
accompanied  them.  They  made  an  excellent 
catch  of  beaver  and  reset  the  traps.  I  ob- 
served closely  the  manner  of  setting  and  bait- 
ing. This  is  done  in  different  ways,  according 
to  the  condition  of  the  banks  of  the  creek,  the 
dams,  the  depth  of  water,  and  whether  there  is 
a  muddy  or  gravelly  bottom. 

Trapping  is  a  science  only  to  be  acquired 
through  long  practice.  I  am  considered  one  of 
the  best,  yet  I  am  constantly  experimenting. 
"Medicine/*  which  is  of  various  kinds,  may  be 
good  on  one  river  or  creek,  but  not  effective  on 
others. 

To  skin,  flesh,  and  stretch  beaver  and  otter 
is  quite  an  art,  in  which  many  trappers  never 
become  proficient. 


CHAPTER  VI 

Little  Wind  River.  A  Wonderful  Hot  Spring.  Shoshone 
Scouts.  Chief  Washakie.  We  Trade  our  Blackfoot 
Plunder.  Shoshone  Horse  for  Blackfoot  Scalp.  A  Night 
of  Council,  Scalp  Dance,  and  War  Song.  The  Fate  of  Two 
Trappers.  "Good  for  Evil"  not  the  Trappers'  Creed. 
Shakespeare  in  a  Trapper's  Pack.  Mountain  Men  Great 
Readers.  A  White  Beaver. 

WE  remained  in  this  camp  three  days,  and 
Williams  was  constantly  on  the  lookout 
for  Shoshones  or  trappers,  climbing  up  on  high 
knolls  and  using  a  spyglass. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  we  moved 
down  Little  Wind  River  to  where  it  forms  a 
junction  with  Big  Wind  River,  and  saw  no 
Indian  signs. 

There  is  here  one  of  the  grandest  and  most 
romantic  warm  springs  to  be  found  on  this 
continent.  It  is  situated  on  the  south  side  of 
the  Little  Wind  River,  about  nine  miles  from 
the  mountains.  Its  mineral  properties  are  un- 
excelled, and  according  to  scientific  men  it  is 
the  equal  of  any  spring  in  what  is  now  known 

60 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        61 

as  the  National  Park.  The  spring  is  on  the  Sho- 
shone  reservation.  I  have  been  told  that  New 
York  capitalists  are  willing  to  pay  the  govern- 
ment one  million  dollars  for  it.  The  country 
from  Owl  Creek  range  to  the  base  of  the  Great 
Wind  River  Mountains  is  called  warm  land  by 
the  Indians. 

We  stayed  in  this  camp  two  days,  keeping  a 
sharp  lookout,  especially  for  war-parties.  Here 
I  set  my  first  traps  for  beaver  and  caught  two 
and  one  foot  out  of  three  traps  set,  which  made 
me  feel  very  proud.  In  those  days  beaver 
brought  from  $8  to  $16  a  hide.  Dark  otter 
skins  brought  a  good  horse  from  the  Indians,  or 
$10  to  $12  from  traders. 

We  next  moved  up  the  river  about  twenty 
miles,  scouting  the  country  towards  Owl  Creek 
Mountains,  but  saw  no  fresh  Indian  sign. 

Here  was  a  beautiful  and  strong  camp,  which 
could  repel  an  attack  from  any  number  of 
Indians.  Williams  said  we  would  have  to  re- 
main here  until  we  met  the  Shoshones,  or 
ascertained  if  they  had  left  for  Green  River  by 
some  other  route.  They  avoided  the  plains  as 
much  as  possible  on  account  of  the  numerous 
war-parties  to  be  found  there. 

On  the  fourth  day,  at  evening,  a  scouting 
party  of  Shoshones  was  discovered  by  Williams. 


62         My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

I  was  with  him  and  we  were  some  distance  from 
camp.  Williams  said,  "Shoshones."  I  asked 
him  how  he  could  tell,  and  he  answered  that  it 
was  by  the  way  they  acted,  which  he  said  de- 
noted that  they  were  the  advance-guard  or 
scouts  of  a  village.  They  always  have  scouts 
out  when  moving  villages,  so  as  to  be  prepared 
for  enemies. 

We  galloped  towards  them,  firing  a  shot. 
The  Indians  saw  us  and  heard  the  shot  and 
understood  that  we  were  friends.  There  were 
nine  in  the  party;  they  were  acquainted  with 
Williams,  and  seemed  really  glad  to  meet  him. 
They  asked  him  who  I  was,  and  were  told  that 
I  was  a  friend  from  the  States.  They  accom- 
panied us  back  to  camp,  where  we  had  a  feast 
and  a  smoke. 

Their  curiosity  was  greatly  excited  on  seeing 
our  captured  trinkets,  and  Williams  recounted 
the  whole  circumstances  of  our  trouble  with  the 
Blackfeet.  They  were  the  most  excited  Indians 
I  have  ever  seen  from  that  day  to  this.  When 
shown  the  scalps,  many  of  them  yet  stretched 
on  hoops  to  dry,  they  jumped  up  and  gave  a 
ringing  war-whoop. 

These  same  Blackfeet  had  killed  two  trappers 
on  Gray  Bull  Creek,  and  had  gotten  away  with 
five  horses. 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        63 

i 

Williams  told  the  Shoshones  that  the  Black- 
feet  who  had  attacked  us  had  no  horses.  They 
answered  that  we  had  not  seen  all  of  them; 
and  that  they  had  stolen  seven  horses  from  their 
village.  According  to  the  Shoshones'  statement 
the  war-party  had  split,  and  there  must  have 
been  about  thirty  of  them  in  all.  The  other 
Blackfeet  were  around,  they  said,  and  it  made 
them  uneasy.  They  wanted  us  to  pack  up  at 
once  and  join  their  village.  Washakie,  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  Indians,  was  their  chief, 
and  he  was  a  great  friend  of  the  whites. 

Williams  told  the  Shoshones  to  return  to 
their  village,  taking  two  of  the  Blackfeet  scalps, 
and  to  notify  Washakie  that  we  were  camped 
here  and  wanted  to  trade.  They  departed 
saying  that  their  village  would  be  with  us  the 
next  day. 

We  scouted  the  country  for  quite  a  distance 
up  the  river,  but  saw  nothing.  It  does  not  fol- 
low because  one  sees  no  Indians  that  none  are 
about.  It  stood  mountain  men  in  stead  to  be 
constantly  on  the  alert,  Indians  or  no  Indians. 
Many  a  poor  outfit  has  come  to  grief  by  not 
taking  the  mountaineers'  advice. 

We  were  not  disturbed  during  the  night,  and 
in  the  morning  put  everything  in  order  to  re- 
ceive Washakie  and  his  village. 


64        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Williams  told  the  men  that  they  could  have 
all  the  plunder  captured  from  the  Blackfeet, 
and  that  the  Shoshones  would  pay  good  prices 
for  it.  He  told  me  that  I  could  get  a  good 
horse  for  my  two  scalps.  Docket  gave  me  a 
fancy  scalp,  saying,  "Now,  young  chief,  you 
can  buy  a  squaw." 

About  three  o'clock  Washakie,  with  a  body- 
guard of  twenty  men,  rode  into  camp.  It  was 
a  pleasure  to  see  that  noted  chief  and  Williams 
meet.  Long-parted  brothers  could  not  have 
been  more  affectionate. 

We  soon  had  a  feast  prepared,  and  after  the 
feast  a  smoke. 

In  the  meantime  the  village  made  its  appear- 
ance, and  lodges  were  put  up  above  and  below 
our  camp.  We  were,  in  fact,  corralled. 

The  plunder  was  all  spread  on  blankets,  and 
as  Indians  are  more  acquisitive  than  whites,  a 
lively  trade  sprung  up,  particularly  with  the 
women.  They  would  give  a  pair  of  fancy  moc- 
casins for  almost  anything  that  had  belonged  to 
the  Blackfeet. 

The  chief's  son  brought  a  good  horse  and 
presented  it  to  me.  Any  one  acquainted  with 
Indians  knows  that  a  present  from  them  means 
that  you  own  something  that  they  want.  I 
soon  found  out  that  it  was  the  scalp  he  wanted 


WASHAKI  E— CH  IEF  OF  THE  SNAKES 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        65 

and  I  gave  it  to  him.  He  was  a  noble  young 
man,  with  the  characteristics  of  his  father. 

The  Shoshones  were  delighted  at  my  pro- 
ficiency in  sign -language,  for  by  this  time  I 
was  able  to  converse  on  any  and  all  subjects. 

It  must  have  been  very  amusing  to  hear  the 
many  questions  the  women  asked  me.  "What 
tribe  had  I  been  raised  with?"  "Where  was 
my  woman  ? "  "  Had  I  left  her  ? "  They  would 
not  believe  that  this  was  my  first  experience. 

Trade  continued  until  dark.  The  Indians  ex- 
changed moccasins,  beaver  hides,  mink,  martin, 
and  buffalo  robes. 

Williams  bought  all  the  furs  and  robes  from 
our  men,  paying  them  cash.  They  had  no  in- 
terest in  our  stock  of  goods,  but  were  paid  to 
accompany  us.  Any  furs  which  they  caught  in 
traps  belonged  to  them.  They  were  all  old 
acquaintances  of  Williams  and  Perkins. 

The  Indians  stood  guard  that  night,  and  in 
fact  every  night  while  we  were  in  this  section. 
It  stood  them  well  in  hand  to  do  so.  Kalispell 
Indians  generally  paid  this  country  a  visit 
every  spring  to  take  a  few  scalps  and  ponies. 
The  Kalispells  were  enemies  to  all  Indians  on 
the  plains.  When  they  and  Blackfeet  war- 
parties  met  there  was  sure  to  be  a  clash,  and 
this  happened  frequently. 


66        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Williams  and  Perkins  held  council  most  all 
night,  while  scalp  dances  and  war  songs  were 
being  indulged  in  by  all  the  young  folks.  It 
makes  no  difference  with  Indians  whether  they 
take  the  scalps  or  not,  if  only  these  had  be- 
longed to  their  enemies.  I  have  heard  people 
make  statements  to  the  contrary,  but  they 
knew  not  what  they  were  speaking  of.  Hence 
many  false  ideas  originate  in  the  minds  of  many 
well  informed  Americans. 

The  next  day  Washakie  gave  orders  to  his 
people  to  bring  their  furs  and  robes  and  give  a 
good  trade  to  their  friends.  This  they  did  to 
our  satisfaction. 

Two  mounted  parties  were  sent  out  scouting 
for  enemies,  and  a  few  to  bring  in  meat.  One 
of  the  parties  met  three  trappers  who  belonged 
to  the  outfit  surprised  by  the  Blackfeet.  An 
account  of  the  troubles  of  these  men  will  well 
illustrate  the  risk  taken  by  trappers  in  collect- 
ing furs  in  those  early  days  and  even  thirty  years 
later. 

The  two  trappers  killed  were  off  some  dis- 
tance from  camp  looking  after  their  traps,  when 
Indians  surprised  and  killed  them.  The  other 
three  heard  the  shots  and  hurried  to  camp  to 
secure  what  horses  they  could;  but  the  Indians 
were  able  to  run  off  five  head  and  also  to  cap- 


•    My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        67 

ture  the  two  rifles  which  we  had  retaken.  Wil- 
liams returned  the  rifles  and  knives  to  the  three 
men. 

They  were  nervy,  these  three.  One  was  a 
Scotchman,  one  a  Frenchman  from  St.  Louis, 
and  the  third  came  from  Kentucky. 

They  said  that  when  they  heard  the  shots, 
they  were  aware  that  their  companions  had 
been  attacked,  so  they  rushed  for  their  horses, 
securing  six,  the  Indians  getting  three  besides 
the  two  belonging  to  their  dead  comrades. 
"Kentuck"  said  they  had  no  opportunity  to 
render  assistance  to  their  fellows  as  the  Indians 
charged  upon  them.  They  were  camped  in  a 
thick  grove  of  cottonwoods,  and  had  prepared 
a  breastwork  for  just  such  an  attack.  The  In- 
dians kept  at  long  range,  knowing  that  if  they 
approached  trappers'  guns  some  of  them  would 
come  to  grief.  All  Indians  dreaded  trappers 
when  once  brought  to  bay.  Any  tribe  to-day 
will  confirm  this  statement.  A  few  shots  were 
exchanged  and  then  the  Indians  withdrew. 

"Kentuck"  was  anxious  to  find  out  what  had 
been  done  with  the  two  trappers,  so  he  climbed 
a  high  knoll  and  saw  about  thirty  Indians  mak- 
ing for  the  mountains,  half  of  them  mounted. 

He  then  went  down  the  gulch  and  found 
his  two  friends  dead,  scalped,  and  otherwise 


68         My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

mutilated  in  a  horrible  manner.  His  eyes  flashed 
when  recounting  the  circumstances.  The  reader 
can  well  understand  the  just  cause  for  trappers 
retaliating.  Good  for  evil  is  hardly  a  trapper's 
creed  when  dealing  with  Indians. 

After  burying  the  men  they  packed  up  and 
started  to  join  the  Shoshones,  knowing  where 
they  were  camped,  and  intending  to  remain  with 
them  until  they  reached  Green  River.  They 
now  joined  our  party. 

In  their  possession  were  six  packs  of  beaver 
of  eighty  pounds  each,  worth  $9  a  pound, 
making  a  total  of  $4320.  There  was  good  money 
in  trapping,  but  the  rewards  hardly  justified  the 
risk. 

I  found  the  Scotchman  and  the  Kentuckian 
well  educated  men.  The  latter  presented  me 
with  a  copy  of  Shakespeare  and  an  ancient 
and  modern  history  which  he  had  in  his  pack. 

We  had  an  abundance  of  reading  matter  with 
us;  old  mountain  men  were  all  great  readers. 
It  was  always  amusing  to  me  to  hear  people 
from  the  East  speak  of  old  mountaineers  as 
semi -barbarians,  when  as  a  general  rule  they 
were  the  peers  of  the  Easterners  in  general 
knowledge. 

These  three  trappers  had  caught  a  beautiful 
white  beaver,  a  fur  which  is  very  rare  and  valu- 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        69 

able.  This  they  presented  to  Williams  and  would 
take  nothing  in  return,  saying:  "You  keep  this 
as  a  memento  from  us  of  the  high  esteem  in 
which  we  hold  you." 

In  the  afternoon  the  other  scouting  party  re- 
turned and  reported  that  near  Owl  Creek  Moun- 
tains they  had  had  a  fight  with  a  war-party  of 
Pend  Oreilles,  and  that  two  of  their  number 
were  slightly  wounded. 

These  two  appeared  very  proud  of  their 
wounds.  All  Indians  have  that  weakness, 
showing  their  wounds  to  all  and  looking  for 
smiles  from  their  lady  loves  for  their  bravery. 


CHAPTER  VII 

The  Scouts  Report  Indian  War-Parties.  We  Resolve  to  Clear  the 
Country  of  them.  Scouting  for  Hostiles.  A  Want  of 
Strategy.  Some  Actual  Warfare.  A  Wild  Scene.  We 
Have  a  Close  Encounter.  We  Rush  the  Knoll.  A  Night 
of  Mingled  Mourning  and  Rejoicing. 

THE  Shoshones  expected  to  remain  in  this 
camp  for  several  days,  to  give  their 
women  an  opportunity  to  finish  dressing  robes 
and  drying  meat. 

The  grass  was  good,  timber  was  plentiful,  and 
a  few  buffalo  were  on  the  prairie.  To  supply 
the  camp  with  fresh  meat  and  to  scout  for  war- 
parties  would  keep  the  young  men  busy,  so 
Washakie  said. 

In  the  meantime  the  Indians  were  having  a 
joyous  time  dancing  over  Blackfeet  scalps.  I 
passed  the  time  in  visiting  all  the  lodges,  and 
studying  the  habits  and  customs.  I  was  be- 
coming interested  and  had  a  desire  to  learn 
everything  pertaining  to  Shoshones,  so  that  I 
could  ascertain  the  difference  between  them  and 
other  tribes  that  I  might  come  in  contact  with. 

70 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains         71 

The  scouts  kept  reporting  fresh  Indian  tracks, 
but  no  Indians.  This  brought  about  a  council 
between  the  Shoshones  and  our  party  for  the 
purpose  of  devising  some  plan  to  rid  this  section 
of  war-parties.  We  had  more  than  a  passing 
interest  in  accomplishing  this.  Not  that  we 
feared  the  war -parties,  but  we  wanted  to  collect 
furs  without  being  constantly  annoyed. 

Williams  was  the  leading  spirit  in  the  coun- 
cil. After  much  deliberation  it  was  decided  to 
form  three  parties  of  twenty-five  each,  who 
should  operate  in  conjunction,  some  of  our 
party  to  be  in  each  of  the  three. 

By  daylight  the  following  morning  all  were 
ready,  and  we  silently  left  the  village,  taking 
the  routes  selected. 

Our  company  of  Shoshones,  including  Wil- 
liams, went  to  Bull  Lake,  as  it  was  a  favorite 
place  for  war-parties.  Indian  tradition  had  it 
that  the  father  of  all  buffaloes  roamed  around 
this  lake.  From  the  high  knolls  surrounding 
the  water  one  could  sweep  the  country  for 
miles  with  the  aid  of  a  spy-glass,  and  could 
readily  discover  any  Indian  village  or  trapping 
outfit. 

When  we  reached  Bull  Lake  Creek,  where  it 
forms  a  junction  with  Big  Wind  River,  we  saw 
fresh  pony  tracks  coming  from  the  east  side  of 


72         My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Big  Wind  River  and  going  up  the  creek.  It 
was  impossible  to  tell  the  number,  as  they  trav- 
elled in  single  file. 

Every  foot  of  this  section  was  known  to  the 
Shoshones,  which  was  of  great  advantage.  We 
went  up  the  creek  for  about  three  quarters 
of  a  mile,  when  the  country  became  rough. 
Three  of  the  young  men  now  dismounted, 
stripped,  and  went  on  ahead  to  scout,  we  hold- 
ing their  horses.  When  we  received  a  signal 
from  the  scouts  we  would  advance  to  the  point 
explored. 

It  was  just  about  this  time  that  we  heard 
shots  from  the  east  side  of  Wind  River,  and  we 
felt  certain  that  one  of  our  parties  had  come 
in  contact  with  hostiles. 

Our  scouts  approached  a  high-timbered  knoll 
and  discovered  a  band  of  Indians  running  to- 
wards a  high  ridge,  looking  in  the  direction 
from  which  we  had  heard  the  shots.  Our  scouts 
returned  on  a  run  and  mounted.  Moonhavey,  a 
noted  chief  and  warrior,  took  the  lead,  keeping 
under  cover  so  as  not  to  be  observed  by  the 
Indians  on  the  ridge. 

We  continued  on  for  half  a  mile  and  came  to  a 
crooked  draw  which  headed  up  on  the  ridge. 
The  chief  wheeled  and  went  up  this  draw  for  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  and  halted. 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains         73 

Just  ahead  was  a  sharp  bend,  which  when 
passed  would  bring  us  in  full  view  of  the  In- 
dians on  the  ridge. 

The  Shoshones  stripped  to  breech-clouts  in 
short  order  and  mounted  their  runners.  Moon- 
havey  gave  the  signal  for  a  charge  and  dashed 
around  the  curve. 

Within  two  hundred  yards  were  fourteen  head 
of  ponies  under  the  care  of  two  young  men. 
They  gave  a  warning  cry  to  their  comrades  on 
the  ridge,  who  fired  several  shots  without  effect 
as  the  range  was  too  great. 

With  a  furious  yell  the  Shoshones  charged  on 
the  two  men,  who  tried  their  best  to  mount, 
but  they  were  soon  on  their  way  to  their  happy 
hunting-grounds.  The  Indians  on  the  ridge, 
seeing  the  two  men  fall,  disappeared. 

Our  party  divided,  one  going  to  the  right  and 
the  other  to  the  left,  until  about  three  hundred 
yards  apart,  when  both  parties  started  up  the 
ridge. 

Upon  reaching  the  top,  we  saw  the  Indians 
about  one  quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  making  for 
Wind  River,  where  cottonwood  groves  were  vis- 
ible. Once  there  they  would  be  able  to  stand 
us  off  for  some  time  and  more  than  likely  kill 
some  of  us. 

The  country  was  comparatively  level  to  the 


74        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

river,  with  the  exception  of  two  steep  draws, 
which  we  crossed  at  a  run.  If  the  war-party 
had  used  good  judgment  they  would  have  taken 
possession  of  one  of  these  draws,  but  their 
minds  must  have  been  set  on  the  timber  and 
river.  The  war-party  next  scattered,  which 
was  another  blunder,  as  they  must  have  real- 
ized that  they  could -not  reach  the  timber  and 
that  we  outnumbered  them  two  to  one.  They 
should  have  remained  together  and  taken  pos- 
session of  some  buffalo  wallow,  for  there  were 
plenty  of  these  around.  I  fail  to  see  the  won- 
derful strategy  with  which  Indians  are  credited. 
I  had  a  quick  eye  and  I  observed  every  move 
of  both  parties. 

When  the  Indians  scattered  they  were  about 
two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  ahead,  and  if  the 
scene  that  followed  could  have  been  reproduced 
on  canvas  it  would  have  been  worth  a  fortune. 
It  was  a  scene  that  occurs  only  in  actual  warfare. 

The  Shoshones  gave  yell  after  yell,  charging 
madly  and  most  recklessly.  The  chief  warned 
them  to  be  careful,  but  they  paid  no  attention 
to  him,  for  in  a  case  like  this  it  is  a  great  feat 
to  take  the  first  scalp,  and  the  successful  warrior 
is  greatly  praised  in  their  village.  His  lady 
love  guys  the  other  girls,  claiming  her  lover 
as  the  bravest  of  the  brave,  first  among  their 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        75 

enemies.  I  believe  the  same  rule  exists  among 
paleface  girls,  when  a  lover  has  performed  an 
heroic  act. 

The  war-party  dropped  blankets  and  war- 
sacks,  which  contained  tobacco,  pipes,  moc- 
casins, and  other  things,  thinking  that  the 
Shoshones  would  stop  and  pick  them  up.  But 
the  Shoshones  charged  on,  redoubling  their 
yells. 

It  was  a  wild  scene  for  a  few  moments, 
shots  and  arrows  flying  in  every  direction. 
Williams,  Moonhavey  and  myself  had  the  fleet- 
est horses  and  reached  the  Indians  first.  Wil- 
liams killed  the  first  Indian,  while  Moonhavey 
and  I  both  fired  at  the  same  time  and  both 
missed,  which  chagrined  me  greatly. 

I  dashed  after  a  tall  Indian,  who  had  his 
arrow  strung,  passing  him  at  a  run.  We  both 
fired  at  the  same  time,  his  arrow  lodging  in  the 
fleshy  part  of  my  horse's  shoulder,  which  would 
have  ruined  him  if  the  arrow  had  had  force 
behind  it,  but  the  Indian  was  scared.  My  shot 
knocked  him  down,  and  I  heard  Williams  yell 
out,  " Well  done,  boy!"  There  were  only  three 
left  and  they  were  having  a  combat  with  a  few 
young  Shoshones  who  were  doing  poor  execu- 
tion. Some  older  men  stepped  in  and  put  a 
quietus  to  any  further  fighting  by  sending  the 


76        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

three  to  join  their  companions  in  the  happy 
hunting-grounds. 

After  " lifting  hair"  and  collecting  plunder, 
we  returned  to  where  we  had  left  the  captured 
ponies.  Seven  of  them  belonged  to  the  Sho- 
shones,  having  been  stolen  by  the  Blackfeet. 
Five  of  them  belonged  to  Kentucky's  party, 
and  there  were  two  strange  ones,  which  Moon- 
havey  forced  Williams  and  myself  to  accept. 

The  shots  had  ceased  from  the  east,  so  the 
chief  sent  the  wounded  men  to  the  village,  and 
the  rest  of  us  started  over  towards  where  we 
supposed  our  second  party  was.  We  discovered 
them  clustered  together  near  a  spring.  One 
Shoshone  was  dying,  having  been  shot  through 
the  lungs,  and  three  others  were  wounded. 
They  had  come  in  contact  with  nine  Blackfeet, 
who  had  taken  possession  of  a  rocky  knoll  and 
made  a  breastwork  on  it.  The  two  opposing 
forces  exchanged  shots  for  some  time  without 
any  apparent  result,  as  fearless  Evans  remarked. 
Council  was  held,  and  it  was  agreed  to  charge 
the  knoll  from  two  sides. 

Six  Indians  were  left  behind  to  cover  the 
charge  by  continuous  firing  at  the  breastwork. 
With  a  yell  and  a  rush  the  knoll  was  charged, 
and  a  quietus  was  put  on  those  nine  Blackfeet 
in  short  order. 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        77 

Evans  had  his  cheek  split  open  with  an  arrow, 
and  "Kentuck"  received  a  slight  wound  in  the 
left  arm.     Williams  always  carried  a  supply  of  / 
court -plaster,  lint,  and  bandages  for  such  emer-/ 
gencies,  and  soon  fixed  up  the  men. 

After  dressing  the  Indians'  wounds,  we  took 
two  long  poles  and  fastened  one  on  each  side 
of  a  gentle  pony,  lacing  a  pair  of  blankets  to 
the  poles.  On  this  we  put  the  dying  Indian  and 
set  out  for  the  village.  The  other  wounded 
Indians  rode  ponies  and,  fool-like,  were  proud 
of  their  wounds. 

We  reached  the  village  at  three  o'clock  and 
were  met  by  half  the  tribe,  who  wanted  to  ascer- 
tain the  cause  of  our  slow  approach.  And  now 
there  was  a  mixture  of  joy  and  sorrow  blended 
together;  the  relatives  of  the  dead  man  mourn- 
ing and  making  the  night  hideous  with  dismal 
howls,  others  singing,  yelling,  and  sending  forth 
war-whoops,  parading  the  village,  and  recount- 
ing in  detail  all  the  incidents  pertaining  to  the 
fight  and  the  extermination  of  those  "dogs  of 
Blackfeet." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  Brush  with  Piegans.  We  Part  from  the  Shoshones.  I 
Mystify  Washakie.  Indian  Horsemanship.  The  Shoshones. 
Beaver  Trapping.  My  First  Bear.  A  Lesson  in  Bear  Shoot- 
ing. Fascination  of  the  Mountain  Life. 

THE  third  party  had  not  as  yet  returned.  In 
going  through  the  captured  war-sacks  we 
found  two  white  men's  scalps,  which  "Ken- 
tuck"  recognized  as  belonging  to  his  partners. 
He  buried  them,  saying,  * '  I  am  not  acquainted 
with  their  relations,  or  I  would  send  or  take  the 
scalps  to  them." 

Williams  assisted  me  in  cutting  the  arrow - 
point  out  of  my  horse's  shoulder,  and  he  soon 
recovered,  which  highly  pleased  me.  He  and  I 
were  greatly  attached  to  each  other,  and  I  used 
to  feed  him  sugar  every  day.  Docket  said  that 
I  gave  him  more  sugar  than  the  whole  party 
used. 

Williams  would  answer,  "Let  the  boy  alone, 
he  will  get  over  that  in  time."  But  I  never  did 
while  I  owned  Runner.  Sugar  was  then  worth 
one  dollar  a  pound. 

78 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        79 

"Scotty"  and  Russell  were  with  the  third 
party,  and  Washakie,  with  all  the  head  men  of 
the  village,  held  a  council  with  Williams  and 
Perkins  to  talk  over  the  situation. 

They  came  to  the  conclusion  that  there  were 
no  more  Blackfeet  in  the  country,  and  that  the 
third  party  had  come  in  contact  with  Arapa- 
hoes,  Crows,  or  Kalispells. 

Washakie  finally  decided  to  dispatch  half  a 
dozen  young  men  to  scout  the  country  as  far 
as  Owl  Creek  Mountains,  a  distance  of  twenty 
miles,  and  to  return  at  once  unless  they  discov- 
ered something  which  justified  a  further  advance. 

The  party  was  led  by  the  chief's  oldest  son,  a 
brave  and  energetic  young  warrior,  bearing  a 
remarkable  resemblance  to  his  noted  father. 
They  left,  leading  their  running  horses,  so  that 
in  case  of  emergency  they  could  either  fight  or 
run  as  circumstances  warranted. 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  the  third 
party  was  seen  slowly  approaching,  and  it  was 
evident  that  it  included  some  wounded.  The 
Indian  women  who  had  husbands  or  lovers  in 
the  party  became  most  anxious.  Some  of  the 
Indians  with  spy -glasses  ran  to  high  ground  to 
count  their  number,  and  soon  made  out  thirty- 
three,  which  was  the  full  complement,  including 
the  six  young  scouts. 


8o        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

On  the  arrival  of  the  party  in  the  village  it 
was  found  to  contain  six  wounded,  including 
"Scotty"  and  Russell.  The  former  was  shot 
through  under  the  left  collar-bone,  and  Russell 
had  received  a  glancing  shot  in  the  scalp.  "A 
close  call,"  as  Perkins  remarked. 

They  had  met  a  war-party  of  twenty  Piegans 
on  the  summit  of  Owl  Creek  Mountains.  Shots 
were  exchanged  with  little  damage,  and  the 
Shoshones  finally  charged  the  hill.  It  was  dur- 
ing this  charge  that  "Scotty"  and  Russell  re- 
ceived their  wounds.  The  Piegans  retreated, 
leaving  two  of  their  number.  The  Shoshones 
followed  them  about  twenty  miles,  keeping  up 
a  running  fight  until  the  Piegans  got  into  a 
strong  position;  then  they  withdrew.  On  the 
way  back  they  lifted  -the  hair  of  three  killed  in 
the  running  fight  and  two  killed  on  the  hill. 
They  also  collected  considerable  plunder,  in- 
cluding five  good  ponies,  giving  "Scotty"  and 
Russell  their  share. 

The  leading  chiefs  now  held  a  council,  and 
decided  that  there  were  no  more  war-parties 
in  that  section.  All  the  Indians  were  jubilant 
and  they  went  about  saying  that  now  all  their 
enemies  would  fear  them.  They  calculated 
without  their  host,  as  the  saying  is.  When 
what  had  taken  place  became  known  among  the 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        81 

Blackfeet  and  Piegans,  they  would  be  sure  to 
hold  a  great  council  and  concoct  some  plan 
whereby  they  could  revenge  themselves  upon 
those  ''dogs  of  Shoshones"  for  the  loss  of  their 
brave  warriors.  As  I  previously  stated,  Indians 
never  consider  themselves  the  aggressors.  It  is 
enough  that  they  have  lost  warriors. 

That  same  day  we  wound  up  our  trade  with 
the  village  and  began  to  pack  up.  Williams  in- 
duced Washakie  to  take  all  our  furs  to  Fort 
Bridger,  as  well  as  the  six  packs  belonging  to 
"Kentuck's"  party.  The  Shoshones  intended 
to  go  by  the  South  Pass  route,  while  we  pur- 
posed to  cross  the  mountains  and  follow  down 
Green  River,  collecting  furs  and  bear  hides  en 
route.  Bear  hides  were  still  prime  in  the  moun- 
tains and  were  valuable.  On  the  second  day 
we  parted  company  with  our  friends,  who  urged 
us  to  stay. 

By  this  time  I  was  almost  equal  to  the  best 
sign-talker  in  the  village.  Bear  in  mind  that 
not  all  Indians  are  good  sign-talkers.  Dunces 
among  them  are  as  common  as  among  whites. 

Washakie  would  look  at  me  quizzically  and 
ask  me  with  what  tribe  I  had  been  raised  ?  He 
could  not  or  would  not  believe  that  this  was 
my  first  experience  among  Indians.  He  would 
say  to  Williams  that  I  could  ride  a  horse  as 

6 


82        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

well  as  any  of  his  young  men  and  was  their 
equal  in  shooting;  while  in  fact  I  was  their 
superior  with  both  rifle  and  pistol,  thanks  to 
my  early  training.  I  mystified  and  bewildered 
them  by  turning  hand-springs.  My  health  was 
splendid  and  I  was  surcharged  with  energy. 

As  we  now  had  eleven  in  our  party,  we  appre- 
hended no  more  danger  from  war-parties,  but 
traders  and  trappers  never  relaxed  their  vigi- 
lance in  those  days.  He  who  did  so  often  came 
to  grief. 

If  asked  to  compare  the  horsemanship  of  the 
Cheyennes  and  the  Shoshones,  I  should  say  that 
they  were  equally  skilful.  Both  can  accom- 
plish the  difficult  feat  of  retaining  their  seat  on 
a  horse  while  life  remains;  and  they  are  like  a 
cat,  tenacious  of  life. 

When  wounded  they  retain  their  seat  by 
winding  a  hair  rope  around  the  horse's  body; 
sometimes  they  put  their  legs  under  this  rope, 
tight  to  the  thighs;  and  sometimes  bring  the 
knees  up  so  as  to  form  an  acute  angle,  the  rope 
passing  tight  over  the  thighs  and  under  the  calf 
of  the  legs. 

They  can  lie  on  the  side  of  a  horse  in  action, 
and  if  wounded  will  retain  the  seat  until  out  of 
danger  of  enemies. 

I  have  heard  some  men  claim  that  an  Indian 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        83 

could  lie  on  the  side  of  a  horse  and  shoot  under 
its  neck  with  bow  and  arrow,  without  the  use 
of  pad,  saddle,  or  rope !  To  my  knowledge  such 
is  not  the  case.  I  have  many  times  been  in 
action  with  mounted  Indians  and  I  have  never 
seen  it  accomplished. 

An  Indian  dreads  to  use  a  rope  when  ap- 
proaching trappers  in  a  fortified  position,  or 
when  brought  to  bay.  Trappers  will  kill  the 
horse  first,  and  they  are  then  sure  to  get  the 
Indian. 

As  hunters  and  shots  the  Shoshones  are  su- 
perior to  the  Cheyennes,  for  the  reason  that 
they  are  more  of  a  mountain  Indian  and  hunt 
more  small  game. 

The  domestic  habits  of  the  Shoshones  are 
commendable  for  Indians.  They  are  clean,  in- 
clined to  be  proud,  and  think  a  great  deal  of 
their  women  and  children.  They  like  to  see 
them  well  dressed  as  Indian  dress  goes.  Many 
of  them  have  more  than  one  wife,  but  one  of 
the  wives  is  superior  to  the  others,  who  do  all 
the  hard  work,  such  as  dressing  robes,  collect- 
ing fuel,  and  packing  the  horses.  Take  them 
as  a  whole,  the  Shoshones  are  a  contented 
and  hospitable  tribe  and,  no  doubt  owing  to 
Washakie's  great  influence,  friends  of  the  whites. 

We  remained  two  days  at  Bull  Lake  and 


84        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

caught  many  beaver.  I  was  now  becoming 
very  successful  in  trapping,  and  caught  as  many 
as  any  of  the  outfit.  Williams  taught  me  to 
skin,  flesh,  and  stretch,  in  all  of  which  I  soon 
became  proficient.  Furs  indifferently  handled 
always  bring  a  low  price  on  the  market. 

We  next  crossed  the  mountains  to  the  west 
fork  of  Green  River,  and  found  furs  in  abun- 
dance. We  also  found  black,  brown,  and  silver- 
tip  bear,  getting  several  fine  hides. 

I  went  with  Perkins  on  my  first  bear  hunt. 
We  succeeded  in  coming  upon  two  black  bears 
and  got  within  one  hundred  yards  without  the 
bears  scenting  us.  Perkins  told  me  which  one 
to  aim  at,  and  we  both  fired  at  the  same  time. 
His  bear  made  one  forward  jump  and  then 
rolled  over.  Mine  fell  forward,  growling  and 
trying  to  get  up,  but  unable  to  do  so.  I  put 
another  shot  in  the  bear's  head  to  finish  her. 
Of  course,  I  felt  very  proud  of  my  first  bear, 
though  in  later  years  I  learned  that  it  was 
easier  to  kill  a  bear  than  an  antelope,  provided 
you  know  where  to  shoot  it.  You  are  sure  to 
get  any  animal  shot  in  the  shoulder-blade,  be- 
cause they  cannot  travel. 

It  has  often  been  said  that  bears  are  the  most 
ferocious  animals  in  protecting  their  young. 
Such  a  statement  is  false,  as  I  have  many  times 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        85 

seen  a  she -bear  run  away  from  her  young, 
which  were  picked  up  and  carried  away  into 
captivity.  The  mountain  lion,  so  much  dreaded 
by  many,  is  cowardly  and  is  only  dangerous 
when  cornered.  The  great  danger  in  bear- 
hunting  is  when  a  wounded  one  gets  into  a 
thicket.  In  such  instances  a  good  bear  dog  is 
needed.  We  shot  two  more  bears  that  day, 
making  a  load  for  a  pack-horse. 

Perkins  said  to  me  after  supper  that  night: 
"Now,  young  man,  I  am  going  to  give  you  a 
practical  illustration  of  how  to  shoot  not  only 
bear,  but  all  other  four-legged  animals/'  He 
pulled  out  one  of  the  bears  and  took  the  hide 
off.  Next  he  spread  out  the  legs  and  put  the 
bear  on  its  belly.  He  then  cut  the  ribs  from 
the  backbone,  cut  down  the  flank,  and  pulled 
down  the  sides,  so  as  to  give  a  view  of  the  bear's 
internal  organs.  He  then  showed  me  where  to 
shoot  from  any  position  that  it  was  possible  for 
the  bear  to  be  in,  and  told  me  particularly  to 
note  how  low  the  vital  parts  lay. 

I  profited  by  that  lesson  and  never  forgot  or 
deviated  from  it.  I  would  advise  all  persons  to 
do  likewise  with  their  first  bear.  I  would  also 
advise  them  never  to  go  into  a  thicket  after  a 
wounded  bear,  and  not  to  hunt  bears  at  all 
unless  they  have  confidence  both  in  their  rifles 


86        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

and  their  own  nerves.  Many  men  are  used  up 
by  wounded  bears  through  their  own  ignorance. 

Our  wounded  men  had  by  this  time  recov- 
ered sufficiently  to  take  an  active  part  in  col- 
lecting furs.  We  caught  a  quantity  of  martin 
and  a  few  fisher.  The  latter  is  classed  as 
American  sable,  with  a  demand  twenty  times 
greater  than  the  supply. 

We  remained  in  this  camp  on  the  west  fork 
for  six  days,  and  then  moved  down-stream 
about  twenty-five  miles  and  camped  in  a  most 
beautiful  place:  an  ideal  spot  for  the  poet  to 
become  inspired  with  the  beauty  and  grandeur 
of  nature  and  to  be  awed  by  the  lofty  peaks 
which  ascended  above  the  clouds. 

At  this  camp  we  made  a  great  catch  of  bear, 
having  piled  up  a  lot  of  beaver  carcasses  to 
attract  them.  I  became  expert  in  bringing 
down  bear  with  the  first  shot.  The  men  were 
all  fine  shots.  They  could  not  be  otherwise 
after  such  long  experience.  They  often  re- 
ceived great  praise  from  people  for  their  expert- 
ness  with  firearms,  but  no  more  than  they 
merited,  for  an  American  mountaineer  had  no 
equal  on  the  globe.  It  was  necessary  that  they 
should  be  expert,  for  they  carried  their  lives  in 
their  hands.  At  any  moment  they  were  liable 
to  come  in  contact  with  roving  war-parties, 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        87 

who  were  never  known  to  fail  to  attack  a  trap- 
ping outfit  if  they  dared.  To  be  taken  pris- 
oner was  to  experience  a  death  none  desired. 
A  slow  fire  is  merciful  beside  other  cruelties 
practised  by  Indians.  All  mountain  men  were 
acquainted  with  these  facts,  and  therefore  it 
was  impossible  for  an  Indian  to  capture  a 
scout  or  a  trapper — and  scouts  were  invariably 
trappers.  They  knew  what  would  follow. 

I  have  often  been  asked  why  we  exposed  our- 
selves to  such  danger?  My  answer  has  always 
been  that  there  was  a  charm  in  the  life  of  a 
free  mountaineer  from  which  one  cannot  free 
himself,  after  he  once  has  fallen  under  its  spell. 


CHAPTER  IX 

The  Blackfoot  Fort  in  Utah.  A  Good  Day  for  Bears.  Fort 
Bridger.  Mountain  Men's  Law.  We  Trade  our  Furs. 
Infatuated  with  the  Life.  Exploration  of  the  Yellowstone 
in  1839.  Afterwards  I  Visit  that  Country.  Trappers'  Tales. 
My  Skill  in  Sign-Language.  We  Go  with  Washakie's  Band. 

WE  left  this  camp  with  regret  and  moved 
down  the  river  about  twenty  miles. 
Here  we  saw  pony  tracks,  but  could  not  deter- 
mine whether  they  were  made  by  Indians  or 
trappers.  Selecting  a  favorable  location  for 
camp,  we  built  corrals  and  turned  loose  most  of 
the  stock  under  guard,  picketing  half  a  dozen  of 
our  best  horses  in  case  of  emergency. 

Docket  and  I  then  mounted  our  horses  and 
followed  the  pony  tracks,  receiving  a  caution 
from  Williams  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout.  Docket 
was  an  experienced  scout,  well  up  in  Indian 
strategy,  and  we  apprehended  little  danger  of 
being  surprised  by  lurking  savages.  We  fol- 
lowed the  trail  about  six  miles,  and  struck  a 
creek  which  we  followed  northward  about  seven 

88 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        89 

miles.  Here  we  came  in  sight  of  a  camp,  which 
Docket  pronounced  to  belong  to  trappers.  Ar- 
rived there,  we  found  seven  free  trappers,  three 
of  whom  were  acquainted  with  Docket.  They 
were  somewhat  astonished  at  seeing  us. 

Two  of  their  number  were  badly  wounded, 
having  been  attacked  about  ten  days  previous, 
when  they  lost  half  their  horses  and  some  of 
their  traps.  The  Indians  had  discovered  their 
traps  and  raised  (stolen)  them.  This  often 
occurs.  The  outfit  were  very  glad  to  meet  us, 
as  they  were  out  of  tobacco  and  ammunition. 
They  said  that  they  would  move  over  to  our 
camp  the  following  day. 

When  asked  if  they  knew  what  Indians  had 
attacked  them  they  said  no,  but  they  supposed 
that  they  were  Blackfeet.  This  tribe  was  the 
last  to  be  out  in  the  spring,  its  war-parties  going 
in  every  direction,  even  as  far  as  Salt  Lake 
Valley  and  beyond,  as  all  old  mountain  men 
can  attest.  There  is  a  Blackfoot  fort  on  a 
bench  overlooking  the  great  hot  springs,  north 
of  where  Salt  Lake  City  now  stands.  The  fort 
is  still  preserved,  I  have  been  told,  as  a  me- 
mento of  the  old  days.  At  all  events,  I  myself, 
as  well  as  many  others,  bathed  in  the  spring 
and  saw  the  fort  long  before  any  Mormons  had 
reached  Salt  Lake  Valley. 


90        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Leaving  the  valley  Docket  and  I  went  across 
country,  keeping  a  good  lookout  for  bears,  of 
which  many  signs  were  visible.  About  three 
miles  from  the  trappers'  camp  we  discovered  a 
she -bear  with  three  cubs  passing  over  a  ridge. 
Hurrying  to  the  ridge,  we  saw  the  bears  about 
two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  away,  turning  over 
rocks  in  a  hollow.  We  dismounted  and  crept  to 
within  one  hundred  yards,  when  Docket  said, 
"You  kill  the  old  one."  Taking  careful  aim  I 
placed  the  bullet  within  an  inch  of  the  spot 
aimed  for.  She  bounded  forward  and  rolled 
over,  with  blood  rushing  from  mouth  and  nos- 
trils. Docket  shot  a  cub,  the  other  two  run- 
ning around  thoroughly  bewildered.  We  both 
shot  again,  each  one  getting  his  cub. 

We  took  the  hide  off  the  old  one  and  packed 
the  young  ones  to  camp.  At  this  season  of  the 
year  a  cub  is  the  daintiest  of  food,  and  one 
which  few  mortals  have  an  opportunity  of  par- 
taking of  at  the  present  day. 

The  other  men  had  shot  four  bears,  besides 
making  a  good  catch  in  the  traps.  We  were 
kept  busy  dressing  and  stretching  until  dark. 

We  stood  guard  constantly — one  man  at  a 
time,  and  left  nothing  to  chance.  Just  because 
no  Indian  sign  had  been  discovered,  it  did  not 
follow  that  no  Indians  were  about  or  in  the 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        91 

vicinity.  If  they  were,  they  would  have  heard 
the  shooting  and  would  be  sure  to  hunt  up  the 
camp  before  morning. 

The  next  day  the  trappers  whom  Docket  and 
I  had  met  arrived  and  camped  close  to  us. 
They  traded  several  beaver  hides  for  articles 
they  stood  in  need  of.  They  were  a  sunburnt, 
hardy  and  brave -looking  lot  of  men,  with  erect 
forms  and  fearless  demeanor.  All  but  the  two 
wounded  ones  were  acquainted  with  our  outfit. 
These  two  belonged  in  Santa  Fe. 

We  remained  in  this  camp  eight  days,  and  as 
the  trapping  season  was  over  started  for  Fort 
Bridger,  travelling  by  easy  stages. 

Here  we  found  many  trappers  and  traders 
who  were  having  a  high  time,  gambling  and 
drinking.  Many  trappers  became  hilarious,  but 
not  offensive.  A  strict  law  prevailed  among 
mountain  men  embodied  in  a  few  words:  "Take 
nothing  which  does  not  belong  to  you  without 
the  owner's  consent."  A  man  who  committed 
an  offence  would  be  fined  about  all  he  pos- 
sessed, besides  being  ostracized.  Far  better  to 
be  dead  than  in  that  condition.  He  would 
never  be  allowed  in  a  trappers'  camp.  His  act 
would  in  a  short  time  be  known  throughout  all 
the  camps. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  I  became  acquainted 


92         My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

with  many  of  the  old  mountain  men,  such  as 
Bridger,  Anderson,  and  the  Baker  brothers.  A 
great  many  trappers,  such  as  Carson  and  Bent, 
resorted  to  Las  Vegas  and  Santa  Fe.  There 
was  a  great  rivalry  among  fur  buyers  at  those 
places.  Prairie  schooners  were  constantly  haul- 
ing goods  from  Independence,  Mo.,  to  the  two 
towns. 

Fort  Bridger  is  on  Black's  Fork,  a  tributary 
of  Green  River,  a  beautiful  location.  Henry's 
Fork  and  other  streams  tributary  to  the  same 
river  contain  the  purest  of  water  and  an  abun- 
dance of  trout.  Timber  was  plenty  and  the 
grass  excellent  for  stock.  It  was  an  ideal 
place  for  a  camp  for  either  trapper  or  Indian. 
Washakie  was  camped  about  three  miles  from 
Bridger.  He  had  not  stored  our  furs  at  the 
Fort,  but  had  them  in  his  village. 

Pomeroy  and  Campbell,  agents  for  the  North- 
west Fur  Company,  were  at  Bridger,  anxious  to 
buy  furs.  They  were  acquainted  with  Williams, 
but  were  not  on  very  friendly  terms.  In  fact, 
they  were  not  friendly  with  any  free  trader  or 
trapper,  but  were  too  shrewd  to  show  the  dis- 
like too  plainly.  They  were  arrogant,  having  a 
desire  to  control  the  actions  of  free  trappers  to 
their  own  personal  advantage,  something  which 
they  never  accomplished.  They  struck  Wil- 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        93 

Hams  at  once  for  a  trade,  and  we  packed  all  our 
furs  from  the  Indian  village  to  our  camp.  I 
observed  closely  the  dickerings  and  tricks  of 
those  fur  buyers  on  one  side  and  of  Williams  on 
the  other.  It  took  three  days  before  the  trade 
was  consummated  to  Williams 's  satisfaction. 
Our  men  got  Williams  to  handle  their  furs,  as 
none  of  them  were  able  to  deal  with  these 
leeches  of  fur  buyers.  We  had  a  few  Indian  ./ 
goods  left,  so  Williams  traded  for  more  to  com-  (  ? 
plete  the  assortment,  as  he  expected  later  to 
meet  the  Utes  and  Navajos.  Besides  the  In- 
dian goods  we  received  one  thousand  dollars  in 
cash  and  three  checks  on  St.  Louis  bankers. 

I  mailed  my  check  to  father  and  got  scolded 
for  so  doing  when  I  returned  for  a  thirty  days' 
visit  a  few  years  afterward.  I  also  wrote  him 
that  I  should  not  return  in  the  spring.  I  had 
become  infatuated  with  mountain  life  and  was 
enjoying  splendid  health.  I  would  not  have  fore- 
gone the  same  for  all  the  wealth  in  the  universe. 

Like  Vasques,  these  traders  threatened  to 
make  it  very  unpleasant  for  Williams  some 
day.  But  this  did  not  in  the  least  disturb  him. 
Perkins  told  them  that  they  had  better  look 
out  for  Williams,  as  he  had  more  influence  with 
Indians  than  any  of  the  traders. 

"Kentuck"  sold  his  furs  and  went  back  to 


94        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

the  States,  promising  to  rejoin  our  party  in  the 
spring.  "Scotty"  remained  with  us.  Alto- 
gether there  were  about  sixty  trappers  at  Brid- 
ger  besides  a  few  Hudson  Bay  men.  The  order 
of  the  day  was  drinking,  gambling,  horse-racing, 
and  shooting-matches.  I  believe  gambling  is 
contagious,  for  I  could  not  resist  trying  my  luck 
at  target -shooting  at  five  dollars  a  shot.  I 
won  two  hundred  and  thirty  dollars,  much  to 
the  disgust  of  many  old-timers,  who  thought 
they  had  an  easy  thing  of  it  with  a  "boy." 
Our  men  all  backed  me  heavily. 

During  the  evenings  I  used  to  listen  to  old 
trappers  relating  stories,  and  they  interested  me 
greatly.  From  an  historical  point  of  view  one 
in  particular  is  worth  recording. 

In  the  year  1839  a  party  of  forty  men  started 
on  an  expedition  up  the  Snake  River.  In  the 
party  were  Ducharme,  Louis  Anderson,  Jim  and 
John  Baker,  Joe  Power,  L'Humphrie,  and 
others.  They  passed  Jackson's  Lake,  catching 
many  beaver,  and  crossed  the  Continental 
Divide,  following  down  the  Upper  Yellowstone 
—Elk — River  to  the  Yellowstone  Lake.  They 
described  accurately  the  lake,  the  hot  springs  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  lake ;  Steamboat  Springs 
on  the  south  side;  the  lower  end  of  the  lake, 
Vinegar  Creek,  and  Pelican  Creek,  where  they 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        95 

caught  large  quantities  of  beaver  and  otter. 
They  also  told  all  about  the  sulphur  mountain, 
the  Yellowstone  Falls,  and  the  mud  geysers,  and 
explained  the  relations  of  all  these  more  lucidly 
than  any  map  can  show  them. 

They  also  described  a  fight  that  they  had 
with  a  large  party  of  Piegan  Indians  at  the 
lower  end  of  the  lake  on  the  north  side,  and  on 
a  prairie  of  about  half  a  mile  in  length.  The 
trappers  built  a  corral  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
prairie  and  fought  desperately  for  two  days, 
losing  five  men  besides  having  many  wounded. 
The  trappers  finally  compelled  the  Piegans  to 
leave,  with  the  loss  of  many  of  their  bravest 
warriors.  After  the  wounded  were  able  to 
travel,  they  took  an  Indian  trail  and  struck  a 
warm-spring  creek.  This  they  followed  to  the 
Madison  River,  which  at  that  time  was  not 
known  to  the  trappers. 

I  listened  with  rapt  attention  when  they 
described  the  wonderful  springs  at  the  Lower 
Basin,  especially  the  one  situated  on  the  bank 
of  the  river  called  Fire  Hole.  It  was  this  spring 
which  gave  the  name  Fire  Hole  Basin. 

The  description  of  the  geysers  on  the  upper 
Madison  River  astonished  all  the  trappers  pres- 
ent, and  Williams  advised  me  to  take  notes,  as 
he  wanted  to  visit  that  section. 


96        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Many  years  after  I  guided  a  party  through 
that  country  and  it  lay  as  a  picture  before  me. 
I  used  to  describe  in  advance  what  we  should 
see  from  day  to  day,  and  members  of  the  party 
said:  "How  comes  it, Hamilton?  You  said  that 
you  had  never  been  in  this  section  before,  yet 
you  go  from  place  to  place  describing  every- 
thing just  as  it  is." 

In  a  very  few  words  I  enlightened  them,  and 
they  thought  it  strange  that  the  outside  world 
had  not  earlier  known  about  that  wonderful 
country. 

I  gave  them  to  understand  that  the  outside 
world  would  not  believe  stories  told  by  trappers 
of  the  grand  and  romantic  scenery  to  be  found 
in  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Had  this  wonder- 
land been  described  in  St.  Louis  in  the  early 
forties,  the  reply  would  invariably  have  been, 
"Old  mountaineer's  story."  There  is  plenty  of 
proof  of  this  assertion.  Trappers  as  a  rule  were 
an  independent  set  when  relating  truths  which 
were  not  believed.  It  was  the  fault  of  our  ad- 
vanced civilization  that  this  wonderland  was 
not  brought  to  the  notice  of  the  general  public 
years  before  it  was. 

Give  me  the  man  who  has  been  raised  among 
the  grand  things  of  nature!  He  cultivates 
truth,  independence,  and  self-reliance.  He  has 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        97 

lofty  thoughts  and  generous  impulses.  He  is 
true  to  his  friends  and  true  to  the  flag  of  his 
country. 

Many  Shoshones  were  present  at  Fort  Bridger, 
and  they  asked  me  all  kinds  of  questions  by 
signs,  all  of  which  I  answered  correctly,  to  the 
astonishment  of  old  trappers.  Even  Bridger 
asked  me  where  I  had  learned  sign-language. 
I  pointed  to  Williams  and  said,  "From  him." 
"Not  so,"  said  Bridger,  "for  you  can  teach  him 
signs." 

He  asked  Williams  where  I  had  come  from 
and  he  was  answered  truthfully,  but  did  not 
believe  what  he  was  told.  Many  old-timers 
thought  I  had  been  raised  by  some  tribe.  Even 
to-day  people  believe  the  same.  Enough  of  this 
—it  is  sufficient  to  say  that  in  one  year  from 
the  time  I  started  I  was  considered  the  most 
proficient  in  sign-language  of  all  white  men  on 
the  plains. 

We  staid  at  Fort  Bridger  about  two  weeks 
and  then,  with  Washakie  and  his  Shoshones,  jy^ 
moved  to  Brown's  Hole  on  Green  River,  which 
is  about  sixty  miles  from  Bridger  and  was  a 
trappers'  rendezvous.  A  few  Utes  and  Navajos 
came  up  on  their  annual  visit  with  the  Sho- 
shones, to  trade  and  to  race  horses.  These  In- 
dians collect  considerable  fur  and  are  keen 


98        My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

traders.  We  opened  up  our  goods  in  a  tent, 
and  I  was  placed  in  charge  as  trader,  having  by 
this  time  a  fair  idea  of  the  quality  and  price  of 
furs. 


CHAPTER  X 

Horse-Racing.  Shooting  from  Horseback.  Whites  Outshoot 
Indians.  Williams  Leaves  us.  Navajo  Blankets.  A  Lost 
Manuscript. 

WE  remained  at  Brown's  Hole  until  the 
first  of  September,  making  several  ex- 
cursions to  the  Uintah  Mountains,  a  beautiful 
and  romantic  country  and  then  a  hunters'  para- 
dise for  small  game. 

Nothing  occurred  to  mar  the  good  feeling 
between  the  whites  and  the  Indians.  I  spoke 
of  this  to  Williams  one  day  when  the  three 
tribes  were  parading  on  horseback.  Indians  and 
horses  were  decorated  with  paint  and  trappings 
of  finery,  according  to  the  taste  of  the  owner. 
Each  man  was  trying  to  outdo  the  others  in 
horsemanship,  stopping  ponies  when  in  full  ca- 
reer, halting  at  a  mark,  at  a  jump — the  one  who 
succeeded  in  stopping  the  nearest  to  the  mark 
winning  the  trophy.  I  had  seen  Cheyennes  and 
Sioux  parade,  but  they  were  not  equal  to  these. 

The  whites  and  Indians  held  shooting  con- 
tests on  horseback,  and  the  former  showed  their 

99 


ioo      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

superiority.  Three  posts  were  set  in  the  ground, 
about  twenty -five  yards  apart.  They  stood  six 
feet  out  of  the  ground  and  were  ten  inches  in 
diameter.  The  top  of  the  post  was  squared  for 
a  distance  of  about  twelve  inches.  The  arms  to 
be  used  were  Colt's  six-shooters.  Horses  were 
to  be  put  at  full  speed,  passing  the  posts  not 
closer  than  ten  feet,  and  the  contestant  was  to 
fire  two  shots  at  each  post. 

Some  of  our  party  put  two  bullets  in  each 
post  and  all  at  least  one.  I  tried  it  twice,  and 
was  somewhat  surprised  to  find  that  the  best 
I  could  do  was  to  place  one  bullet  in  each  post. 
The  Indians  had  several  pistols  equal  to  ours, 
but  only  three  of  them  hit  each  post,  putting 
one  shot  in  each.  Many  Indians  hit  but  one 
post  out  of  six  shots. 

With  rifles  the  whites  defeated  the  Indians 
still  worse,  shooting  at  all  distances  from 
twenty  to  three  hundred  yards.  In  those  days 
the  best  rifles  used  were  the  Hawkins,  and  they 
carried  three  hundred  and  fifty  yards.  Wagers 
were  always  made,  and  the  Indians  always 
insisted  that  the  whites  should  take  first 
shot.  Nine  times  out  of  ten  the  whites  won, 
and  then  the  Indians  as  an  excuse  would  claim 
that  "their  medicine  was  not  strong  that  day." 

In  riding  bucking  horses  the  whites  also  came 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       101 

out  ahead,  and  it  is  well  known  to-day  that  the 
Indians  never  did  equal  them  in  this  accom- 
plishment. 

I  have  already  mentioned  that  two  of  our 
men  were  expert  with  bows  and  arrows.  Rus- 
sell was  one,  and  Bowers,  whom  we  called 
"Silver  Tip,"  the  other.  They  could  hold  their 
own  against  any  of  the  Indians.  In  fact,  we 
were  all  constantly  practising  with  them.  To- 
day I  can  shoot  an  arrow -point  through  an 
inch  and  a  half  plank. 

Our  party  now  started  to  get  ready  for  the 
fall  trapping  season,  which  opened  in  the  moun- 
tains on  the  i^th  of  September.  Williams  had 
to  go  to  Santa  Fe  on  business,  but  he  promised 
to  be  back  in  the  spring  and  organize  a  party 
for  a  two-years  expedition. 

He  traded  his  mule,  which  was  a  good  one, 
for  a  Navajo's  blanket.  The  blankets  are 
world-renowned.  It  is  a  question  if  any  manu- 
factured by  civilized  men  are  their  equal.  They 
are  absolutely  water-proof,  and  are  made  by 
the  women  entirely  by  hand.  The  colors  are 
fast,  and  the  secret  of  the  art  is  known  only  to 
the  Indians. 

Williams  presented  me  with  his,  and  I  kept 
it  many  years,  making  a  serape  of  it.  This  is 
done  by  cutting  a  slit  in  the  centre  large  enough 


102       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

for  the  head  to  go  through,  and  it  will  keep 
one  perfectly  dry  in  wet  weather. 

We  traded  all  our  furs  to  some  buyers,  taking 
in  exchange  sugar,  coffee,  salt,  crackers,  flour, 
ammunition,  tobacco,  knives,  traps,  etc.,  and 
cash,  Perkins  and  myself  taking  the  goods  and 
Williams  the  cash. 

The  day  before  Williams  started  he  took  me 
for  a  walk  and  gave  me  advice  in  many  things. 
He  looked  upon  me  as  his  son,  and  few  fathers 
ever  gave  their  sons  better  advice. 

He  also  told  me  that  he  was  writing  a  history 
of  his  life  among  the  Pueblo,  Navajo,  and 
Apache  Indians,  and  when  completed  he  would 
give  it  to  me,  which  he  did  many  years  after- 
ward. I  firmly  believe  that  it  was  the  only  true 
history  ever  written  of  the  characteristics,  habits, 
and  customs  of  these  three  tribes.  In  18.73  I 
was  appointed  United  States  Marshal,  to  look 
after  some  bad  men  and  Indians  at  the  Crow 
Indian  Reservation  on  the  Yellowstone  River. 
Major  F.  D.  Pease  was  agent  at  the  time.  For 
security  I  placed  Williams 's  manuscript  in  the 
safe  and  three  days  later  the  Agency  burned 
down.  At  the  time  of  the  fire  I  was  on  the 
trail  of  some  cattle  thieves,  otherwise  I  would 
have  saved  a  manuscript  that  can  never  be 
replaced. 


CHAPTER  XI 

An  Expedition  to  Explore  Utah.  The  "Boy"  Becomes  "Bill." 
Old  Bear  Orders  us  off.  "Big  Chief  never  Smokes  with 
White  Dogs."  Trapper  Life  in  a  Hostile  Indian  Country. 
Fortified  in  Camp  Weber.  The  American  Trapper  a  Fine 
Type.  We  Hear  Wolf  Howls  and  Prepare  for  Attack.  The 
Enemy  Repulsed  with  Heavy  Losses.  A  "Big  Talk"  and 
Peace.  "It  Costs  too  much  Blood  to  Fight  Trappers." 

COR  the  next  ten  days  we  were  very  busy 
getting  into  shape  and  organizing.  Per- 
kins was  selected  as  leader.  The  party  was 
made  up  of  twenty  trappers,  and  included  our 
old  men  with  "Scotty."  A  council  was  held  on 
the  1 6th  of  September  and  it  was  decided  to 
explore  Salt  Lake,  Weber,  Bear,  and  Malade 
rivers,  and  other  streams,  as  circumstances  and 
amount  of  furs  should  warrant. 

The  next  day  we  started,  a  wild  and  motley- 
looking  outfit  I  thought.  The  Indians  all 
crowded  up  to  shake  us  by  the  hand  and  to 
warn  us  to  look  out  for  the  Blackfeet. 

Nothing  of  interest  took  place  until  we 
reached  Weber  River,  which  rises  in  the  Wah- 

103 


104       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

satch  Mountains  and  empties  into  Salt  Lake. 
We  followed  the  river  down,  passing  through 
the  canon,  and  came  in  sight  of  the  Great  Salt 
Lake  Valley,  spread  out  in  all  its  primitive 
grandeur.  I  said  to  Perkins,  "Here  is  a  scene 
fit  to  be  viewed  by  the  gods."  Perkins  and  the 
other  men  laughed,  saying,  "Bill  is  becoming 
poetical."  It  was  no  longer  "Boy."  "Bill" 
had  taken  its  place. 

Perkins  wanted  to  visit  a  stream  south  of 
where  Salt  Lake  City  now  stands,  and  on  our 
way  there  we  camped  at  the  hot  springs,  noted 
before,  taking  a  plunge  or  bath  before  the 
Mormons  ever  heard  of  that  country.  We  also 
examined  the  Blackf oot  fort  on  the  bench  over- 
looking the  springs. 

The  next  morning  some  Utah  Indians  called 
on  us  and  wanted  us  to  pay  for  being  in  their 
country.  Such  a  thing  could  not  be  thought  of 
for  a  moment.  These  Indians  spoke  the  Sho- 
shone  tongue,  which  many  of  our  men  under- 
stood. They  were  also  very  fair  sign-talkers. 
When  informed  that  they  would  receive  no  pay, 
their  chief,  who  was  called  Old  Bear — and  bear 
he  was  by  his  looks,  for  a  more  surly  looking 
savage  was  never  seen, — ordered  us  to  leave 
immediately.  He  had  with  him  some  thirty 
warriors,  who  had  a  few  flint-lock  guns,  bows 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       105 

and  arrows,  lances,  knives,  and  tomahawks. 
They  were  thus  fairly  well  armed,  but  by  no 
means  equal  to  our  party. 

Perkins,  who  was  an  expert  in  dealing  with 
turbulent  and  insulting  Indians,  having  great 
patience,  tried  by  every  means  to  pacify  them 
and  make  friends,  but  without  success.  He 
made  the  Indians  keep  back  from  our  outfit, 
and  then  they  would  spit  at  us  and  make  signs 
meaning  "dogs,"  which  we  all  understood.  I 
expected  every  minute  to  see  the  fight  com- 
mence. We  were  prepared  at  every  point,  and 
our  arms  were  in  prime  condition. 

Perkins  cautioned  the  men  to  have  patience, 
for  many  of  them  were  becoming  nervous  at  the 
insults  from  the  Indians.  Trappers  would  not 
brook  insults  from  any  one,  and  as  I  saw  these 
men  grow  more  and  more  angry  and  bite  their 
lips  I  thought  it  commendable  in  them  to  curb 
their  feelings.  All  this  time  Perkins  was  try- 
ing his  best  to  make  peace.  He  filled  his  pipe, 
lit  it,  and  offered  it  to  the  chief,  who  refused 
with  contempt,  saying,  "Big  Chief  never  smokes 
with  white  dogs." 

Perkins's  patience  was  now  exhausted,  and 
he  told  the  chief  in  pretty  plain  language  to 
get  out.  When  the  Indians  saw  our  men  pre- 
pare for  action  by  standing  in  open  order  and 


io6       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

bringing  their  guns  down  to  bear  on  them,  they 
mounted  their  ponies;  and  casting  all  kinds  of 
insults  at  us,  both  in  signs  and  in  spoken  lan- 
guage, they  departed,  going  south,  the  very 
route  that  we  wanted  to  take. 

After  they  had  disappeared  we  held  a  coun- 
cil, and  Perkins  thought  that  we  would  have  to 
give  up  going  any  farther  south,  as  their  village 
was  located  somewhere  in  that  direction.  We 
were  not  afraid  of  the  Indians,  but  we  wanted  to 
collect  furs  and  would  have  no  opportunity  to 
do  this  without  being  greatly  annoyed. 

As  things  stood  it  was  a  certainty  that  the 
Indians  would  follow  us,  and  that  a  fight  could 
not  be  avoided.  We  concluded  to  take  the 
back  track,  a  thing  that  trappers  seldom  do, 
except  under  extreme  conditions  such  as  those 
just  related. 

The  reader  may  be  interested  in  knowing 
just  how  a  company  of  twenty  trappers  divided 
the  work  in  the  business  of  collecting  furs 
among  hostile  Indians. 

In  the  first  place,  everything  was  held  in 
common,  which  means  that  the  value  of  all 
furs  trapped  was  equally  divided.  All  the  men 
could  not  trap,  for  a  picket  had  to  be  con- 
stantly on  duty/  A  guard  remained  with  the 
horses  during  the  day.  During  the  night  the 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       107 

horses  were  corralled.  One  man  had  to  take 
care  of  camp,  and  generally  two  men  acted  as 
skinners  and  caretakers  of  all  the  furs  brought 
in.  The  remainder  set  traps,  and  all  kept  a 
sharp  lookout  for  Indians.  No  shooting  was 
allowed  while  setting  traps,  as  a  shot  signified 
Indians,  at  which  signal  all  were  on  the  alert. 

A  general  rule  that  was  followed  by  all 
mountain  men  was  to  strap  stay -chains  or  trace- 
chains  to  the  horses'  fetlocks.  It  was  impos- 
sible for  them  to  stampede  with  such  a  fixing. 
When  trappers  lost  their  horses  they  were 
obliged  to  go  to  some  rendezvous  and  restock, 
as  furs  could  not  be  collected  without  horses. 

We  camped  in  a  strong  position  on  a  sharp 
bend  in  the  Weber  River,  where  the  banks  were 
steep  and  the  waters  deep,  so  that  in  case  of  an 
attack  the  Indians  could  not  approach  from 
the  river  side.  Perkins  thought  that  the  In- 
dians would  undoubtedly  hold  a  council  in  their 
village  and  concoct  some  plan  whereby  they 
could  capture  those  "  white  t  dogs "  and  get  all 
their  horses.  All  this  we  understood,  but,  as  I 
have  said  before,  they  calculated  without  their 
host,  as  the  sequel  will  show. 

Beaver  signs  were  plentiful  here,  and  after 
camp  was  made  the  men  went  out  and  set  traps. 
At  supper  all  hands  were  in  camp. 


io8       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

We  passed  many  jokes  that  evening,  "Silver 
Tip"  taking  the  lead,  for  he  was  by  long  odds 
the  most  humorous  and  comical  member  of  the 
party. 

Personally  I  was  engaged  in  making  a  close 
study  of  all  our  men,  particularly  the  new  ones, 
and  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  they  were  a 
noble -looking  body  of  men.  With  high  fore- 
heads and  with  calm  and  fearless  eyes,  their 
demeanor  was  that  of  gentlemen.  I  had  read 
of  Daniel  Boone  and  Simon  Kent  on,  and  in  my 
mind  I  began  to  make  comparisons,  wondering 
whether  Boone  or  Kenton  were  any  nobler- 
looking  than  these  men. 

Then  I  thought  of  Leonidas  and  his  handful  of 
men  repelling  Xerxes  and  his  immense  Persian 
army.  Could  they  be  any  braver  or  of  finer 
metal  than  these  trappers?  As  such  thoughts 
passed  through  my  mind,  I  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  the  American  nation  might  well  feel 
proud  of  her  mountaineers,  who  fearlessly  ex- 
plored the  unknown  wilderness,  encountering 
and  overcoming  untold  difficulties  and  dangers 
by  the  mere  force  of  their  own  indomitable 
will-power  and  courage. 

The  true  mountain  men  have  never  received 
the  credit  which  they  justly  merited  for  their 
part  in  bringing  this  unknown  country  to  light. 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       109 

We  only  put  up  one  ten-skin  lodge  for  our 
effects,  sleeping  outside  with  arms  in  hand. 
Two  guards  were  put  on  duty,  to  be  relieved 
at  midnight. 

Perkins  said  that  it  was  customary  for  the 
Utahs  to  attack  just  before  daylight.  It  is  at 
this  time  that  Indians  expect  to  find  whites 
fast  asleep. 

A  little  before  day  two  or  three  wolf  howls 
were  heard  by  the  guards,  who  immediately 
notified  Perkins,  and  he  soon  had  all  the  men 
up.  Our  packs  were  placed  in  a  semicircle  as 
a  breastwork,  and  twenty  of  our  best  horses 
were  saddled  and  tied  in  a  thicket,  to  protect 
them  as  much  as  possible  from  Indian  bullets 
and  arrows.  About  the  only  protection  the 
Indians  would  have  in  approaching  camp  was 
the  sage-brush  which  stood  on  the  flat. 

We  had  a  fairly  well-fortified  position,  and  it 
stood  us  well  in  hand  to  have  it  so.  The  In- 
dians, knowing  our  number,  would  attack  us 
seven  or  eight  to  one,  and  perhaps  more. 

Trappers  in  those  days  were  obliged  always 
to  contend  against  overwhelming  numbers ;  but 
they  never  hesitated,  and  it  was  always  a  fight 
to  win,  for  defeat  meant  death. 

The  first  wolf  howls  were  soon  followed  by 
others,  coming  from  points  nearer  and  in  a 


1 10      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

semicircle.  Indians  are  expert  in  imitating 
the  cries  of  wolves  or  coyotes,  and  it  is  very 
hard  to  distinguish  them  from  the  cries  of  the 
real  animals.  On  the  other  hand,  even  after 
years  of  practice,  few  whites  can  successfully 
imitate  these  animals.  The  hooting  of  the  owl 
is  frequently  used  as  an  Indian  signal  in  attack- 
ing camps.  All  these  signals  are  carefully 
studied  by  trappers  and  scouts,  who  are  rarely 
deceived. 

The  Indians  must  have  located  our  camp 
from  the  mountains,  which  were  at  no  great 
distance,  as  our  one  lodge  was  set  up  in  a 
cottonwood  grove,  which  concealed  it. 

We  had  not  long  to  wait  before  the  attack 
commenced.  Just  at  break  of  day  the  signals 
ceased,  and  the  trappers  knew  that  the  crisis 
was  at  hand. 

The  Indians  crept  to  within  one  hundred 
yards  of  camp  before  they  gave  the  war-whoop. 
Then  they  came  madly  charging,  fully  one  hun- 
dred in  number. 

The  trappers  had  their  rifles  in  hand  and 
their  pistols  out  of  their  scabbards  ready  for 
instant  use  after  the  rifles  were  discharged. 

We  let  them  get  within  fifty  yards  before  de- 
livering a  shot,  and  at  the  discharge  of  the 
rifles  many  fell.  Three  of  our  men  were  armed 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       1 1 1 

with  double-barrelled  shotguns,  loaded  with  a 
half-ounce  ball  and  five  buckshot,  deadly 
weapons  at  close  quarters.  These  were  now 
discharged  and  the  Indians  halted.  Imme- 
diately the  trappers  began  with  their  six- 
shooters,  one  in  each  hand,  for  as  a  result  of 
long  and  constant  practice  they  could  shoot 
equally  well  with  either.  Every  condition  of 
his  life  obliged  the  trapper  to  be  expert  in  the 
use  of  firearms. 

At  receiving  so  many  shots  from  twenty  men 
the  Indians  became  panic-stricken.  They  had 
not  calculated  on  the  trappers  having  two  pis- 
tols each — twelve  shots  apiece  after  the  rifles 
were  discharged.  They  had  expected  to  ex- 
terminate us  before  we  could  reload  our  rifles. 

The  Indians  retreated,  assisting  many  of  their 
wounded.  Perkins  had  hard  work  to  keep  the 
men  from  charging,  for  our  fighting  blood  was  up. 
Had  we  charged,  we  would  have  lost  several  men, 
for  the  sage-brush  was  alive  with  Indians. 

Several  in  our  party  received  slight  wounds, 
but  none  that  were  serious.  An  arrow  went 
through  my  fur  cap. 

It  was  now  getting  daylight,  and  several 
wounded  Indians  lying  close  to  our  breastwork 
began  shooting  arrows  at  us,  but  our  men  soon 
quieted  them. 


ii2      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

When  the  sun  was  about  two  hours  high,  the 
Indians  sent  a  messenger  with  a  rag  tied  to  a 
stick.  Perkins  met  him  outside.  He  said  the 
Indians  wished  to  make  peace  and  that  they 
had  lost  their  chief,  Old  Bear,  as  well  as  many 
of  their  bravest  warriors. 

This  was  merely  a  sham.  All  they  wanted 
was  to  save  their  slain  from  being  scalped. 

Perkins  told  the  Indian  to  remain  outside 
until  he  held  council  with  his  men.  He  was 
quite  a  diplomat,  and  made  a  strong  speech  to 
the  effect  that  it  would  be  best  to  make  peace. 
It  would  certainly  be  to  our  advantage  in  collect- 
ing furs.  The  Indians  had  received  a  repulse 
which  they  had  not  expected.  They  would 
now  return  to  their  village,  taking  their  dead  and 
wounded,  and  mourn  for  many  days.  This  would 
give  us  time  to  trap  the  Malade  River  and  other 
streams  before  they  got  through  mourning. 

A  vote  was  taken  and  resulted  in  seven 
wanting  to  continue  the  fight  and  thirteen  de- 
claring for  peace.  We  did  not  fear  the  Indians, 
but  we  wanted  to  collect  furs,  not  to  fight. 
Perkins  told  the  Indian  to  go  back  and  bring 
five  of  his  comrades  to  our  camp. 

In  the  meantime  we  cooked  breakfast,  keeping 
a  sharp  lookout  all  the  while,  for  under  no  con- 
ditions do  trappers  trust  Indians  after  a  fight. 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       113 

We  did  not  have  long  to  wait  for  the  six 
Indians,  who  came  up  looking  crestfallen  at 
their  failure.  Perkins  smoked  with  them  and 
gave  them  some  tobacco.  He  then  told  them 
that  if  they  molested  us  any  more  or  stole  any 
of  our  horses  he  and  his  men  would  wipe  out 
their  village. 

"Big  talk,"  Docket  said;  "twenty  men 
wiping  out  six  hundred." 

However,  they  appeared  mighty  glad  to  get 
possession  of  their  dead  and  they  made  signals 
to  other  Indians  to  bring  up  ponies,  and  they 
soon  had  the  dead  lashed  to  the  ponies  and 
departed.  I  counted  thirty-two,  which  rather 
surprised  us,  as  we  had  thought  the  execution 
very  much  greater.  Had  they  attacked  camp 
a  half -hour  later,  in  the  same  manner,  their  loss 
would  have  been  doubled. 

The  next  year  we  learned  that  many  of  the 
wounded  had  died,  and  that  the  Utahs  declared 
that  they  had  lost  many  of  their  best  warriors. 
This  tribe  had  frequently  robbed  small  parties 
of  trappers,  many  times  killing  them,  and  this 
was  the  first  severe  lesson  that  they  had  ever 
received.  After  this  occurrence  they  invariably 
gave  the  well -organized  bodies  of  trappers  the 
"go  by." 

If  any  reader  of  this  should  doubt  the  fighting 


ii4      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

quality  of  the  trapper,  let  him  go  among  any 
tribe  of  Indians  to-day  and  ask  them  what  they 
think  of  it.  They  will  invariably  answer  that 
it  "  costs  too  much  blood  to  fight  trappers/* 

This  band  was  of  the  same  Indians  that  gave 
the  Mormons  so  much  trouble  a  few  years  later. 


CHAPTER  XII 

Bear  River.  The  Bannocks.  A  Swim  with  the  Mercury  38° 
below  Zero.  The  Pah  Utes  a  Low  Race.  Poisoned  Arrows. 
Brown's  Hole  and  its  Gay  Winter  Life.  I  am  Made  Trader. 
A  Terrible  Storm.  Our  Horses  Stolen  by  Blackfeet.  A 
Hard  Ride.  We  Recapture  the  Stock. 

WE  finished  our  trapping  in  this  section 
without  being  molested  further,  and  then 
moved  to  Bear  River.  At  this  camp  we  came 
in  contact  with  the  Bannocks,  whose  chief  was 
named  Pocatello.  It  was  he  who  fought  Con- 
nor and  his  California  volunteers  in  1862.  The 
result  of  the  fight  was  that  the  Bannocks  were 
simply  annihilated.  Pocatello  escaped  by  swim- 
ming down  the  Bear  River  with  the  thermome- 
ter at  38°  below  zero,  unusually  cold  for  that 
country. 

These  Bannocks  made  annual  visits  to  the 
plains  after  buffalo,  and  were  expert  in  the  mak- 
ing of  pemmican.  They  were  also  adept  in  col- 
lecting fine  furs,  more  expert  than  any  other 
tribe  I  have  ever  known. 

It  was  now  October  and  furs  were  beginning 


n6      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

to  get  prime.  We  trapped  Bear  River  and 
Malade  River  with  good  success;  and  then 
crossed  Goose  Creek  Mountains  and  trapped 
Goose  Creek  and  Raft  River. 

Here  we  met  some  Pah  Utes,  a  branch  of  the 
Shoshones,  but  the  Shoshones  do  not  affiliate 
with  them.  They  were  a  primitive  race,  mak- 
ing fire  by  friction  between  two  sticks.  We 
visited  their  village,  as  I  wanted  to  see  how 
they  conducted  their  domestic  affairs.  They 
could  not  be  compared  to  Sioux,  Cheyennes,  or 
Shoshones,  for  they  were  filthy  in  habits.  Their 
cooking  utensils  were  primitive  in  construction. 
For  spoons  they  used  the  hoofs  of  elk  and  the 
horns  of  mountain  sheep.  They  are  credited 
with  manufacturing  pottery,  but  I  visited  many 
lodges  and  saw  none.  They  had  a  few  kettles, 
which  appeared  to  me  all  they  desired.  Their 
arms  consisted  of  bows  and  arrows  and  a  few 
indifferent  flint-lock  guns.  Many  arrows  were 
pointed  with  flint,  which  they  poisoned  by  dip- 
ping the  point  in  liver  which  had  previously 
been  poisoned  with  rattlesnake  venom.  I  have 
heard  that  they  extracted  a  poison  from  roots, 
but  this  I  very  much  doubt. 

They  collect  quantities  of  berries,  and  for 
meats  they  have  deer,  antelope,  mountain 
sheep,  jack -rabbits,  and  ground  squirrels.  The 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       1 1 7 

last  two  are  evidently  their  favorite  food,  for  I 
noticed  large  numbers  of  them  hung  up  in  the 
village.  They  hunt  squirrels  with  blunt -pointed 
arrows.  They  are  great  beggars  and  thieves, 
and  we  caught  them  trying  to  steal  our  horses. 

The  streams  were  now  beginning  to  freeze  up, 
and  we  started  for  the  Brown's  Hole  rendezvous, 
arriving  there  the  latter  part  of  November. 

Several  traders  had  come  from  the  States 
with  supplies,  and  there  was  quite  a  rivalry 
among  them  for  our  furs.  Bovey  &  Company 
were  the  most  liberal  buyers,  and  we  sold  them 
the  entire  lot. 

Besides  the  trappers  there  were  at  the  ren- 
dezvous many  Indians — Shoshones,  Utes,  and 
a  few  lodges  of  Navajos, — who  came  to  ex- 
change their  pelts  for  whatever  they  stood  in 
need  of.  Take  it  all  in  all,  it  was  just  such  a 
crowd  as  would  delight  the  student  were  he 
studying  the  characteristics  of  the  mountaineer 
and  the  Indian.  The  days  were  given  to  horse- 
racing,  foot-racing,  shooting -matches ;  and  in 
the  evening  were  heard  the  music  of  voice  and 
drum  and  the  sound  of  dancing.  There  was 
also  an  abundance  of  reading  matter  for  those 
inclined  in  that  direction. 

Perkins  had  a  fly -tent  put  up  and  made  a 
counter  out  of  dry-goods  boxes,  and  then  said: 


n8       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

4 'Now,  young  man,  you  take  charge  of  the 
store.  You  are  the  best  sign-talker  in  the 
camp  and  can  out -trade  me.  Besides,  the  In- 
dians and  trappers  are  all  fond  of  you." 

I  was  the  youngest  man  in  the  camp  and  full 
of  the  Old  Nick,  the  men  would  say,  for  I  was 
continually  playing  some  prank. 

On  January  2oth  a  fearful  storm  began, 
which  raged  for  six  days,  scattering  most  of  the 
horses  in  the  hills,  and  made  both  trappers  and 
Indians  uneasy,  as  Blackfeet,  Bloods,  or  Piegans 
were  often  in  this  section  at  this  time  of  the 
year.  These  tribes  are  winter  Indians,  and 
storms  and  severe  weather  do  not  affect  them 
in  the  least. 

On  the  seventh  day  the  storm  abated,  and 
about  seventy -five  trappers  and  Indians  started 
out  to  gather  stock.  All  our  horses  except  six 
were  missing.  Among  the  six  was  my  Run- 
ner, and  mounting  him  I  joined  one  of  the 
parties  composed  of  twenty  whites  and  five 
Indians. 

At  Cedar  Creek  we  struck  fresh  tracks  of  a 
large  number  of  horses  making  due  east  to  a 
comparatively  level  country.  The  Indians  said 
to  me  in  signs,  "Blackfeet."  We  travelled  at 
half  speed  for  the  next  twelve  miles  and  came 
to  a  ridge,  from  the  summit  of  which  we  could 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       119 

see  some  Indians  driving  horses  about  one  and 
a  half  miles  away. 

A  draw  to  our  right  led  towards  the  spot,  so  we 
turned  up  and  at  a  rapid  pace  followed  it  to  its 
head  without  being  discovered  by  the  Blackf eet. 

When  we  reached  the  head  of  the  draw,  a 
Shoshone  dismounted  and  crept  to  the  brow  of 
the  hill  and  discovered  the  Blackfeet  going  over 
a  hill  beyond.  Watching  until  they  disap- 
peared behind  the  hill,  he  signalled  and  we  hur- 
ried forward  to  the  next  ridge. 

From  this  ridge  we  could  plainly  see  them 
and  counted  eleven.  They  had  just  halted  to 
change  horses,  and  when  they  caught  sight  of 
us  they  hurried  to  remount. 

Our  horses  were  the  swiftest  and  we  soon 
overtook  them.  They  had  no  possible  chance 
of  escaping,  and  getting  rattled  they  separated, 
which  was  just  what  we  wanted  them  to  do. 
Had  they  staid  together  and  fought  they  might 
have  done  some  damage.  As  it  was,  they  be- 
came panic-stricken  at  our  sudden  appearance. 
Here  was  a  practical  illustration  of  the  efficiency 
of  pistol  practice  at  stumps.  The  trappers  did 
not  for  a  moment  hesitate  to  charge  the  scat- 
tered Blackfeet ;  but  each  one  selected  his  man 
and  passed  at  full  speed,  delivering  pistol  shots 
at  from  twenty  to  forty  feet  distant. 


120       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Almost  every  shot  brought  down  an  Indian, 
who  in  the  meanwhile  attempted  to  fight  with 
his  arrows.  In  less  than  three  minutes  there 
were  eleven  dead  Indians. 

There  was  one  Blackf  oot  mounted  on  a  pinto 
pony  who  was  leading  the  others,  and  as  my 
Runner  was  the  swiftest  horse  in  our  outfit 
the  men  yelled,  "Bill,  catch  that  pinto  with 
that  devil  of  yours." 

The  Indian  at  this  time  was  two  hundred 
yards  distant,  and  I  headed  for  him,  and  it  was 
a  grand  race  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 

I  then  spoke  to  my  pony—  "Catch  him."  He 
needed  no  whip  nor  spur,  and  I  never  saw  him 
do  better.  When  within  fifty  feet  the  Indian 
wheeled  and  let  fly  an  arrow,  but  Runner  would 
spring  to  the  right  or  left  by  pressure  of  my 
knee  and  the  arrow  flew  harmlessly  by.  Be- 
fore the  Blackfoot  could  fit  another  arrow  to 
the  string  I  was  close  to  him  and  had  sent  him 
to  join  his  companions. 

We  let  the  Shoshones  do  the  hair-lifting,  but 
we  appropriated  the  plunder,  which  consisted  of 
pipes,  tobacco,  and  pemmican.  The  pemmican 
was  pounced  upon  by  all,  as  we  were  good  and 
hungry.  "Silver  Tip"  had  received  a  glancing 
arrow  in  the  ribs,  but  it  was  only  a  slight 
wound. 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       121 

The  trappers  and  Indians  gave  me  the  pinto 
pony,  and  it  was  a  good  one;  it  was  very  fast 
and  had  originally  belonged  to  the  Utes. 

We  then  started  for  camp,  having  recovered 
one  hundred  and  fifteen  head  of  horses  and 
mules. 

The  five  Indians  rode  through  their  village 
with  the  scalps  tied  on  coup-sticks,  and  there 
was  great  rejoicing.  They  had  had  no  hand 
whatever  in  killing  the  Blackfeet,  but  that  did 
not  matter.  They  recounted  their  bravery  in 
recapturing  the  ponies  and  taking  each  one  a 
Blackfoot  scalp.  We  came  in  for  no  praise 
whatever  from  the  women,  as  they  considered 
that  we  were  only  assisting  their  brave  young 
warriors.  The  dancing  and  feasting  over  this 
affair  lasted  for  several  days. 

The  Utes,  on  hearing  of  my  catching  the 
pinto  pony,  crowded  around  to  see  my  Runner 
and  after  looking  him  all  over  challenged  me  to 
a  race.  I  was  to  ride  against  the  owner  of  the 
pinto.  Of  course  I  accepted  and  the  bet  was 
made,  I  on  my  part  putting  up  a  mule.  The 
trappers  and  Shoshones  all  backed  me  and  put 
up  blankets,  robes,  and  ponies.  The  track  was 
selected,  the  word  was  given,  and  off  we  started. 

Up  to  within  one  hundred  feet  of  the  finish 
we  raced  neck  and  neck,  but  I  was  holding  my 


122       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

horse  in  and  the  little  imp  was  mad.  When  I 
finally  gave  him  his  head,  he  distanced  the  Ute 
by  twenty  feet,  much  to  his  disgust.  When 
Indians  lose  they  give  up  gracefully,  and  no 
exception  was  made  in  this  case. 

It  was  now  time  to  lay  in  a  supply  of  depuyer 
and  pemmican  for  spring,  and  about  thirty 
trappers  went  to  North  Park  and  secured  all 
the  buffalo  required.  This  kept  all  the  outfits 
busy  for  some  time. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Williams  Returns.  Tygee  the  Bannock.  A  Lucky  13.  Indians 
of  the  Blackfoot  Country.  Life  at  a  Trappers'  Rendezvous. 
Hostile  Bannocks.  Howlack  in  a  Rage.  We  Prepare  for 
Trouble.  Prowling  Wolves  when  Shot  Prove  to  be  Indians. 
Spies  who  did  not  Return.  Three  Hundred  Warriors 
Charge  the  Camp.  A  Desperate  Fight.  The  Enemy 
Routed. 

TN  the  early  spring  a  trapper  named  Duranger, 
*  who  had  formerly  been  with  the  Hudson 
Bay  Company,  reached  the  rendezvous.  He 
had  come  from  the  Walla  Walla  country,  and 
reported  that  the  streams  flowing  from  the  Blue 
Mountains  contained  large  quantities  of  beaver. 

About  the  same  time,  March  isth,  "Ken- 
ttick"  returned,  accompanied  by  ten  trappers 
from  St.  Louis.  They  brought  all  the  late 
papers. 

Five  days  later  Williams  arrived  from  Santa 
Fe,  and  a  council  was  held  to  select  some  new 
field  for  collecting  furs.  Williams  said  that  he 
had  many  times  contemplated  a  visit  to  the 
country  described  by  Duranger,  and  he  made  a 

123 


124       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

proposition  that  as  the  year  was  1843  we  should 
form  a  company  of  forty -three  men  and  make 
all  preparations  for  a  two-years  trip.  This  was 
agreed  upon  and  the  trip  lasted  a  little  over 
two  years. 

Williams,  Perkins,  and  I  packed  five  horses 
with  Indian  goods,  and  the  expedition  started 
on  the  25th  of  March,  with  everything  in  prime 
condition. 

We  travelled  to  Snake  River  and  thence  to 
Blackfoot  River,  where  we  met  a  Bannock  vil- 
lage, of  whose  chief,  Tygee,  so  much  has  been 
written.  He  was  acquainted  with  many  in  our 
outfit  and  was  friendly.  We  traded  with  him 
for  a  few  furs. 

Our  outfit  consisted  of  four  different  parties, 
who  collected  furs  in  common,  that  is,  each  one 
had  an  equal  share  in  all  furs  caught  by  their 
own  party.  We  had  thirteen  in  our  mess — an 
unlucky  number  you  will  say;  but  in  this  in- 
stance it  proved  quite  the  reverse.  For  mutual 
protection  we  always  pitched  our  tents  and 
lodges  together.  Each  mess  furnished  its  quota 
of  guards. 

Before  proceeding  further,  it  will  be  neces- 
sary to  explain  about  the  northern  Indians  who 
were  so  troublesome  to  the  old-time  trappers. 
Three  tribes,  Blackfeet,  Bloods,  and  Piegans, 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       125 

make  up  what  has  always  been  known  as  the 
Blackfoot  nation.  The  Piegan  and  Blood  In- 
dians claimed  and  occupied  the  country  from 
the  British  line,  49°  north  latitude,  to  the 
Musselshell  River  on  the  south ;  and  west  along 
the  summit  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  to  a  range 
enclosing  what  is  now  known  as  Prickly  Pear 
Valley,  where  Helena,  Montana,  is  now.  This 
represented  a  large  area,  and  was  commonly 
called  "Blackfoot  country."  In  the  aggregate 
these  Indians  were  numerous,  and  they  were 
constantly  on  the  war-path  against  all  other 
Indians  and  all  whites. 

The  third  branch  of  the  Blackfeet  resided  in 
and  claimed  the  country  from  the  British  line 
to  Fort  Edmonton  on  the  Saskatchewan  River. 
Hence  when  a  war-party  of  these  northern  In- 
dians were  met  with  they  were  pronounced 
"Blackfeet." 

Many  people  even  to  this  day  believe  the 
Comanches  to  be  a  tribe  distinct  from  others. 
It  is  not  so,  for  they  belong  to  the  Shoshone 
family,  as  do  also  the  Utahs,  Pah  Utes,  and 
Water-rickers,  who  principally  lived  on  the 
Great  American  Desert  or  its  border. 

It  must  not  be  thought  that  trappers  are  an 
idle  set  while  at  the  rendezvous.  The  reverse 
is  true.  Many  of  them  are  constantly  dressing 


126      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

buckskin,  and  their  mode  of  dressing  is  far 
superior  to  that  of  the  Indians,  as  the  skin 
when  prepared  by  them  will  not  stretch  nor 
shrink  when  wet.  Others  are  hunting  deer,  to 
keep  the  camp  supplied  with  meat,  or  putting 
arms  and  traps  in  perfect  condition.  Most 
trappers  make  their  own  buckskin  clothes,  al- 
though there  were  two  tailors  at  Brown's  Hole. 

Tygee  told  us  that  there  were  two  parties  of 
Hudson  Bay  trappers  on  these  streams  near 
his  village,  and  that  another  party  had  gone 
up  Snake  River. 

We  held  a  council  and  decided  to  take  the 
Boise  River  trail,  as  the  Hudson  Bay  Company 
had  a  trading  post  in  that  section.  We  hurried 
along  and  reached  the  post  with  a  few  furs, 
which  we  traded  to  a  gentlemanly  old  Scotch- 
man who  was  in  charge.  He  bought  my  pinto 
pony,  paying  me  fifty  dollars  in  cash.  He  told 
us  that  there  were  no  trapping  outfits  in  the 
Blue  Mountains  nor  on  the  streams,  but  that 
the  Howlack  band  of  Bannocks  were  camped 
on  Camas  Prairie.  This  is  known  to-day  as 
Grand  Rond  Valley  in  Oregon. 

This  band  of  Bannocks  were  not  inclined  to 
be  friendly,  and  he  advised  us  to  cross  the 
mountains  to  Walla  Walla  on  the  north  side. 
This  we  did  not  care  to  do,  as  the  streams  be- 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       127 

tween  the  post  and  Camas  Prairie  were  full  of 
beaver.  We  trapped  all  of  them,  and  it  was 
not  until  we  reached  Camas  Prairie  that  we 
came  in  contact  with  the  Bannocks.  Here  we 
ran  on  to  their  village  of  one  hundred  lodges. 

The  chief  met  us  with  a  strong  escort  of 
painted  and  feathered  warriors  and  commanded 
us  to  halt.  This  we  did,  not  at  his  pleasure, 
but  at  our  own.  He  asked  us  in  signs  what  we 
were  doing  in  his  country,  and  in  an  insulting 
manner  demanded  several  ponies.  He  also 
ordered  us  to  unpack  our  goods,  as  he  wished 
to  see  what  we  had.  These  demands  we  ignored. 

The  Bannocks  were  well  up  in  sign-language 
and  most  of  the  chief's  speech  was  understood 
by  our  men,  all  of  it  by  myself.  The  chief  was 
given  to  understand  that  he  would  receive  no 
ponies,  and  that  we  would  not  unpack.  If  he 
wished  to  smoke  and  be  friends,  good.  If  not,  he 
must  get  out  of  our  way,  as  we  were  going  on, 
and  we  claimed  the  right  to  trap  in  all  streams 
either  in  the  mountains  or  on  the  plains. 

When  the  chief  heard  this  he  appeared  to  be 
thunder-struck. 

The  Bannocks  had  a  great  many  Hudson  Bay 
flint-locks,  bows  and  arrows,  and  a  few  lances, 
mostly  carried  for  ornament,  but  used  also  to 
spear  a  fallen  foe. 


128       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Our  men  were  becoming  impatient  and  would 
have  opened  fight  then  and  there  had  not  Wil- 
liams, who  had  been  chosen  leader,  restrained 
them. 

The  chief  saw  the  action  of  our  men  and  real- 
ized that  he  stood  on  delicate  ground.  He  with- 
drew in  a  threatening  manner.  But  it  was 
plain  to  all  that  we  would  see  more  of  these 
Bannocks.  Heretofore  they  had  stripped  and 
robbed  many  small  trapping  outfits,  but  ours 
was  the  first  large  company  that  had  travelled 
,through  that  country. 

We  passed  by  the  village  and  continued  some 
twelve  miles,  camping  in  a  commanding  posi- 
tion on  a  cottonwood  creek.  We  built  corrals 
and  dug  rifle-pits,  as  we  felt  positive  that  How- 
lack  would  resent  what  he  considered  an  insult 
by  following  us  with  a  strong  war-party.  All 
our  band  were  old  mountain  veterans,  with  the 
exception  of  George  Howard  and  myself.  How- 
ard was  a  brother  of  "Kentuck,"  and  was  over 
six  feet  tall. 

A  few  traps  were  set,  but  not  far  from  camp. 
Pickets  kept  a  sharp  lookout,  and  at  sunset 
discovered  a  few  Indians  at  a  distance.  They 
were  locating  our  camp — a  sure  indication  that 
mischief  was  intended. 

Had  Howlack  seen  the  preparations  we  made 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       129 

to  receive  him  he  would  have  hesitated  before 
attacking  us.  All  our  war-horses  were  saddled 
with  pads.  In  fact,  they  were  always  saddled 
in  readiness,  but  were  never  mounted  except  in 
case  of  emergency.  Six  men  at  a  time  stood 
guard,  with  three  hours'  relief. 

At  about  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  • 
guards  fired  several  shots  at  wolves  prowling  in 
close  vicinity  to  camp.     Two  of  the  wolves  were 
shot  in  the  head  and  proved  to  be  Bannocks. 
Other  wolves  were  seen  departing^ 

Indians  are  very  expert  at  this"  imitating  the 
actions  of  wolves.  Putting  a  large  wolf  hide  on 
their  backs  and  creeping  on  their  hands  and 
knees  they  imitate  the  wolf  very  closely.  But 
mountain  men  are  up  to  all  such  strategy,  and 
many  an  Indian  has  come  to  grief  while  trying 
the  game  on  trappers. 

These  warriors  had  been  sent  by  the  chief  to    ' 
ascertain  the  exact  strength  of  our  camp  before 
he  attacked  in  force.  ( 

When  the  guards  shot,  the  rest  of  the  men 
were  all  asleep  with  arms  by  their  sides,  ready 
for  instant  action.  Before  the  smoke  had 
cleared  from  the  rifles  all  of  us  were  at  the 
breastworks. 

For  some  time  nothing  more  was  seen  of  the 
Bannocks.  We  were  certain  that  the  guards 


130      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

had  made  no  mistake,  for  they  dragged  in  two 
Indians  who  had  played  wolf,  and  "lifted  top- 
knots," as  "Kentuck"  said.  The  chief  must 
have  been  waiting  for  these  two  men  to  return 
and  report,  although  by  this  time  he  must  have 
concluded  that  they  were  either  killed  or 
wounded. 

"^Just  at  daylight  a  strong  force  of  mounted 
warriors  was  seen  approaching.  When  at  about 
three  hundred  yards  from  camp  they  halted  and 
held  a  consultation.  We  estimated  that  the 
Indians  numbered  three  hundred. 

After  a  little  about  one  half  of  them  dis- 
mounted and  made  a  flank  movement,  crossing 
the  creek  so  as  to  attack  us  from  two  sides.  On 
the  creek  side,  opposite  camp,  was  an  open 
country,  and  we  were  well  fortified.  Williams 
detailed  ten  men  to  watch  this  side,  and  ar- 
ranged so  that  they  could  be  reinforced  in  a 
moment  if  necessary. 

Strict  orders  were  given  to  make  every  shot 
count.  It  demoralizes  Indians  when  they  see 
their  comrades  fall.  A  few  determined  men  can 
stand  off  a  great  many  Indians. 

As  soon  as  the  foot  Indians  reached  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  creek  they  opened  fire.  Imme- 
diately the  mounted  Indians  with  yells  and 
war-whoops  began  the  charge. 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       131 

We  held  our  fire  until  the  enemy  were  within 
seventy -five  yards  and  then  opened  up.  Al- 
most every  shot  counted.  Many  Indians  fell 
from  their  horses,  and  ponies  fell  pinning  their 
riders. 

Then  seven  double-barrelled  shotguns  poured 
in  their  fire  on  the  Indians,  who  had  halted 
and  were  somewhat  clustered.  The  shots 
created  havoc  and  with  a  yell,  as  of  despair, 
they  fell  back,  leaving  many  wounded. 

Thirty -three  of  our  men  mounted  their  war- 
horses  and  charged,  but  the  Indians  were  ex- 
cited and  bewildered  and  broke  for  cover. 

Our  men  with  their  deadly  Colts  told  with 
terrible  effect.  We  kept  up  the  chase  for  about 
a  mile,  losing  one  man,  a  Virginian  named 
Albert  Smith,  a  brave  man  in  every  respect, 
and  one  whom  we  could  ill  afford  to  lose. 

We  captured  sixty  ponies  and  many  flint- 
lock guns.  Each  trapper  had  one  scalp  and 
some  two,  but  they  were  dearly  bought.  Of 
our  men  one  was  dead  and  there  were  eleven 
wounded — four  seriously,  but  all  recovered. 

Perkins's  favorite  horse  had  a  broken  leg  and 
had  to  be  shot.  My  horse  was  shot  in  the 
fleshy  part  of  the  thigh,  but  the  wound  did  not 
interfere  with  his  part  in  the  action.  Many  of 
the  trappers'  horses  had  wounds. 


132       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

I  have  been  in  many  an  Indian  charge  since 
this  one,  but  I  have  never  been  in  one  that  was 
so  savagely  executed.  What  made  this  one  so 
bitter  was  that  when  Howlack  went  from  our 
meeting  on  Camas  Prairie  he  said  in  signs,  "  You 
white  dogs,  I  will  wipe  you  out." 

As  soon  as  the  Indians  who  had  attacked 
from  the  creek  side  saw  the  tide  of  battle  sweep 
away  their  companions,  they  left  their  position, 
ileaving  eleven  wounded. 

We  buried  Smith  in  one  of  our  rifle-pits  so 
that  the  Indians  should  not  find  him.  They 
will  dig  down  ten  feet  to  get  a  white  man's 
scalp.  We  fooled  them  this  time,  for  they 
never  discovered  Smith's  body. 

I  saw  Howlack  in  the  lead  of  the  retreating 
Bannocks  and  told  Williams  that  I  thought  my 
horse  could  catch  his,  but  he  said  to  "Let  him 

go." 

This  was  the  same  band  of  Bannocks  who,  a 
few  years  later,  annoyed  the  emigrants  in  Ore- 
gon. It  was  an  unfriendly  tribe  and  is  not  to 
be  trusted  even  to-day. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

The  Bannocks  Taught  a  Lesson.  Indians  as  Fighters.  Ex- 
cited Umatillas.  The  Walla  Walla  Valley.  Its  Fish  and 
Game.  The  Walla  Wallas.  Tygh  Valley.  Indians  Sal- 
mon Spearing.  My  First  Sight  of  the  Columbia.  Latitude 
49°.  Vicissitudes  of  the  Trapper's  Life. 

WE  raised  our  traps  and  packed  up  to  move 
camp,  constructing  four  travois  for  those 
who  were  wounded.     Duranger  said  we  could 
reach  the  Umatilla  River  by  sundown,  and  we 
did  so. 

In  this  section  were  to  be  found  a  tribe  of 
Umatillas  who  had  friendly  inclinations  toward 
trappers,  and  who  were  enemies  of  the  Ban- 
nocks. We  were  soon  discovered,  and  the  chief, 
accompanied  by  a  few  braves,  paid  us  a  visit. 
He  was  over  six  feet  tall  and  was  a  fine-looking 
Indian.  The  Hudson  Bay  men  had  christened 
him  William  Snook. 

,;  When  we  returned  to  Green  River  in  1845  the 
report  of  our  fight  with  Howlack  had  spread 
all  over  that  country,  and  we  were  asked  many 

133 


134      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

times  why  we  had  charged  these  Indians.  They 
claimed  that  we  had  the  Indians  whipped  be- 
fore the  charge  and  that  we  were  secure  in  our 
camp.  Our  answer  was  that  if  we  had  not 
charged  them,  they  would  have  annoyed  us 
constantly,  and  we  wanted  to  stop  that  and 
force  them  to  respect  the  white  men.  The 
trappers  felt  confident  of  their  ability  to  rout 
them,  withjittle  loss  to  themselves.  The  after- 
results  confirmed  the  wisdom  of  our  course,  for 
ever  after  that  fight  these  Bannocks  dreaded 
trappers.  I  have  heard  Hudson  Bay  men  re- 
late that  when  these  Indians  acted  arrogantly, 
they  would  scare  them  by  saying,  "We  will 
bring  those  trappers  if  you  don't  behave."  The 
threat  always  had  the  effect  of  restraining  them,  j 

Indians  will  not  stand  a  white  man's  charge. 
They  dread  close  quarters  and  get  bewildered. 
I  have  heard  it  claimed  that  the  Indians  can 
hold  their  own  in  hand-to-hand  conflicts.  The 
experiences  of  old  mountain  men  do  not  show 
this  to  be  the  case.  Fifty  determined  white 
men  of  experience  can  rout  almost  any  number 
of  Indians.  I  know  that  this  is  so. 

Duranger  could  converse  with  the  Umatillas 
in  Chinook,  and  he  told  them  of  our  fight  with 
Howlack,  showing  the  scalps  and  the  bows  and 
arrows,  The  chief  became  greatly  excited  and 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       135 

dispatched  a  runner  to  his  village,  and  in  a 
short  while  every  Umatilla  in  the  country  ap- 
peared at  our  camp.  /They  were  the  most  ex- 
cited lot  of  Indians  I  ever  saw,  and  wanted  us 
to  move  our  camp  to  their  village,  as  they  were 
sure  that  Howlack  would  follow  us  to  seek 
revenge  for  the  loss  of  so  many  warriors.j 

We  refused  his  kindness,  declaring  that  we 
considered  Howlack  and  his  warriors  as  so 
many  "old  women."  This  was  "big  talk,"  but 
it  had  its  effect. 

These  Indians  had  never  seen  so  many  scalps 
taken  at  one  time,  and  they  had  never  heard  of 
such  a  thing. 

They  brought  us  an  abundance  of  dried  sal- 
mon and  fresh  deer  meat  and  were  very  friendly. 

The  chief  was  a  fair  sign-talker,  but  he  was 
somewhat  astonished  to  see  a  smooth-faced  boy 
who  could  excel  him.  He  asked  me  what  tribe 
I  belonged  to,  or  if  I  was  a  half-breed.  Our 
men  understood  all  this,  and  rallied  me  plenty 
about  being  a  half-breed. 

The  chief  had  a  fine  horse  which  we  wanted 
for  Perkins,  so  we  brought  scalps  and  other 
things  and  laid  them  in  a  heap  at  the  chief's 
feet,  pointing  to  his  horse.  He  understood  in  a 
moment  and,  taking  the  horse  by  the  rope, 
passed  it  over  to  Williams,  who  in  turn  led  it  to 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Perkins.  The  old  veteran  was  greatly  pleased 
with  the  act,  and  the  trappers  were  happy  to 
be  able  to  show  the  esteem  in  which  he  was  held. 

George  Perkins,  a  native  of  Louisiana,  mer- 
ited all  he  received.  He  was  brave  and  gener- 
ous to  a  fault,  and  was  ever  on  the  alert  for  the 
interest  of  all. 

We  remained  in  this  camp  eight  days  and  col- 
lected lots  of  furs,  the  Umatillas  meanwhile 
keeping  a  sharp  lookout  for  Bannocks,  but  see- 
ing none. 

On  the  ninth  day  our  wounded  men  were 
able  to  ride,  and  we  moved  down  the  river  to 
the  base  of  the  mountains.  From  a  high  knoll 
we  could  see  the  entire  Walla  Walla  Valley,  and 
it  was  a  most  beautiful  panorama.  The  Uma- 
tillas also  moved  their  village  and  camped  three 
miles  below  us. 

The  fur  season  was  now  over  and  we  took 
advantage  of  this  opportunity  to  explore  the 
country,  remaining  here  two  weeks. 

Cayuse  and  Walla  Walla  Indians  visited  us. 
They  were  clean  and  somewhat  proud,  and  very 
little  addicted  to  begging.  All  these  tribes  were 
enemies  to  the  Bannocks,  who  were  constantly 
stealing  their  horses.  The  tribes  owned  large 
numbers  of  horses,  and  I  have  been  asked  where 
they  got  them  from.  Many  years  prior  to  this, 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       137 

the  Indians  had  learned  that  there  were  great 
numbers  of  horses  in  southern  California. 
Thereupon  the  Nez  Perces,  Yakimas,  Cayuses, 
and  others  made  up  a  strong  war-party  and 
went  to  the  Sacramento  Valley  and  returned 
with  a  vast  herd.  In  later  years,  when  I  asked 
them,  the  Nez  Perces  confirmed  this  story. 

The  two  weeks  passed  very  pleasantly.  Our 
time  was  spent  in  exploring,  hunting,  and  fish- 
ing. Game  was  abundant  on  every  side — deer, 
elk,  mountain  sheep;  and  we  had  all  the  fresh 
meat  we  wanted.  The  streams  were  full  of 
trout. 

The  Indians  were  enjoying  themselves  to  their 
hearts'  content  with  their  nightly  scalp-dances. 
Williams  and  I  remained  in  their  village  one 
night  and  I  visited  most  of  their  lodges.  They 
were  neat,  clean,  and  well  furnished.  The  In- 
dians were  hospitable  to  friends.  They  had  an 
abundance  to  eat,  such  as  camas  root,  none  of 
which  is  produced  far  east  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, dried  fish,  meats,  and  berries. 

They  occupied  a  rich  and  beautiful  country, 
and  Williams  in  commenting  on  it,  said,  "The 
time  is  not  far  distant  when  this  country  will 
teem  with  life  and  the  Indian  will  pass  away." 

Our  men  had  now  fully  recovered  and  we 
were  ready  to  go.  Duranger  said  that  there 


138       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

was  a  beautiful  valley  situated  about  one  hun- 
dred miles  west,  which  the  Hudson  Bay  men 
called  Tygh  Valley. 

We  bade  the  Umatillas  good-bye  and  went  to 
Tygh  Valley,  expecting  to  remain  there  until 
furs  should  come  in  season,  which  would  be 
about  September  i5th. 

We  travelled  slowly  and  made  many  camps, 
stopping  three  days  at  a  beautiful  stream  called 
John  Day  River  to  hunt  and  fish.  We  next 
moved  to  Des  Chutes  River,  the  fountain-head 
of  which  is  the  summit  of  the  Sierra  Range. 

We  crossed  the  river  below  the  falls,  which 
must  have  been  about  thirty  feet  in  height. 
Here  the  Indians  secure  large  quantities  of  sal- 
mon by  spearing.  Their  spears  are  made  of 
light  pine,  and  are  from  seven  to  nine  feet  in 
length  and  about  an  inch  and  a  half  in  diameter. 
The  lower  end  is  tapering,  and  is  wrapped  with 
linen.  A  spike  about  five  inches  in  length, 
sharpened  at  the  points  and  wrapped  in  the  cen- 
tre with  cloth,  is  fixed  in  a  cavity  of  the  shaft. 
The  fisherman  launches  the  shaft  at  the  sal- 
mon, having  a  cord  fastened  at  the  upper  end 
of  the  shaft  and  around  his  wrist.  When  the 
spike  enters  the  fish  the  shaft  is  withdrawn, 
leaving  the  spike  in  the  fish.  They  never  fail  to 
bring  the  fish  to  shore.  They  split  the  salmon 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       139 

open  at  the  back  and  spread  them  on  racks  to 
dry  in  the  sun  for  future  use. 

At  the  falls  was  camped  a  village  of  Indians, 
whom  Duranger  pronounced  to  be  the  Dog  Creek 
tribe ;  they  were  friendly. 

About  seventy  miles  north  of  this  place  was 
a  Hudson  Bay  trading-post,  situated  on  the 
Columbia  River.  As  we  had  collected  a  con- 
siderable stock  of  furs,  we  concluded  to  visit 
the  trader  and  dispose  of  them.  It  was  my 
first  sight  of  the  Columbia  River,  with  its  scen- 
ery beautiful  beyond  description.  The  trader 
was  Dr.  McLaughlin,  a  formal  but  courteous 
gentleman,  who  owned  a  large  share  in  the 
Hudson  Bay  Company's  lucrative  business.  We 
traded  all  our  furs  for  cash  and  goods,  and  had 
to  wait  three  days  while  a  runner  went  to  Van- 
couver, the  Company's  headquarters,  for  the 
cash. 

The  head  men  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company 
did  not  look  favorably  on  American  trappers 
and  traders.  They  claimed  the  right  to  collect 
all  furs  in  a  given  area  on  the  American  side, 
having  a  charter  to  hold  their  forts  and  trading 
stations  up  to  1861  or  1862.  We  held  some  in- 
teresting arguments  on  the  subject,  and  Wil- 
liams, who  was  better  posted  than  the  doctor, 
told  him  that  their  exclusive  right  was  past  and 


140       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

that  in  the  near  future  all  Oregon  and  the  country 
up  to  the  forty-ninth  degree  would  be  settled 
by  Americans.  Then,  he  said,  they  would  have 
to  move  all  their  forts  to  the  British  side  of  the 
line.  Dr.  McLaughlin  was  somewhat  surprised 
when  Williams  gave  him  the  whole  history  of 
the  country,  and  said  he  had  not  expected  so 
much  information  from  a  trapper.  All  in  all, 
we  passed  a  very  pleasant  time  with  him,  and 
he  presented  us  with  five  gallons  of  port  wine, 
inviting  us  to  call  again  if  we  ever  revisited  this 
section. 

We  returned  to  Des  Chutes  River  and  camped 
about  four  miles  above  the  Dog  Indian  village. 
They  visited  us  daily,  bringing  fresh  salmon. 
It  was  June  and  the  fish  were  coming  up  the 
river. 

In  the  meantime  everything  was  being  put 
in  condition  for  fall  trapping.  George  Howard 
remarked  one  day:  "The  people  back  in  the 
States  have  no  conception  of  the  life  of  a  trap- 
per." One  day  it  would  be  all  peace  and  har- 
mony, with  the  trappers  enjoying  life  as  few 
could  even  in  civilization.  The  next  day  just 
the  reverse,  among  hostile  Indians. 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  Rich  Beaver  Country.  A  Hunter's  Paradise.  Great  Klamath 
Lake.  In  Winter  Quarters.  A  Horse  Pack  worth  $7200. 
"Boston  Men"  and  "King  George's."  In  the  Modoc 
Country.  We  Dig  Rifle-Pits.  Trappers'  Coats  of  Mail. 
Prepared  for  Attack. 

ON  September  i6th  we  broke  camp,  knowing 
very  little  of  our  intended  route,  and  not 
knowing  whether  the  Indians  we  might  meet 
would  be   friendly  or  hostile,   but  thoroughly 
prepared  for  every  emergency. 

We  travelled  over  a  rolling  country,  passing 
a  warm  spring  where  we  saw  a  village.  They 
were  Warm  Spring  Indians,  belonging,  I  think, 
to  the  Dog  family.  They  did  not  appear  very 
industrious,  having  poor  lodges,  very  few 
ponies,  and  nothing  to  trade. 

For  several  days  we  were  busy  trapping,  and 
large  quantities  of  beaver  and  otter  were  being 
caught.  The  country  was  beautiful.  In  every 
direction  the  scenery  was  grand  and  the  region 
was  a  hunter's  paradise  for  all  kinds  of  game, 
particularly  bear. 

141 


i42       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

On  Rush  River  we  found  the  richest  place  for 
beaver  we  had  yet  come  across,  and  it  took  us 
forty  days  to  clean  that  section. 

At  one  of  our  camps  Howard  made  another 
of  his  characteristic  remarks:  "If  people  in  the 
States  could  see  this  camp,  with  the  immense 
number  of  beaver  stretched  on  hoops  and  hang- 
ing on  every  available  limb,  they  would  go  wild. 
When  I  return  and  tell  them  about  it  they  will 
not  believe  me.  Neither  will  they  believe  an 
account  of  the  life  of  the  trappers  who  appear 
to  be  perfectly  at  home  in  a  country  that  none 
of  them  has  ever  heard  of  or  seen." 

It  was  now  towards  the  last  of  October,  and 
the  weather  looked  stormy.  We  moved  to  a 
valley  about  ten  miles  from  the  Sierra  Range 
of  mountains,  and  by  the  time  we  had  a  corral 
built  it  was  storming.  By  noon  the  next  day 
there  was  over  a  foot  of  snow  on  the  ground. 
Blacktail  deer  were  seen  in  every  direction,  and 
we  secured  plenty  of  fresh  meat. 

We  held  a  council  and  decided  to  cross  the 
mountains  before  the  snow  got  too  deep. 

From  the  summit  of  this  range  was  the 
grandest  view  I  ever  beheld.  To  the  westward 
lay  a  large  valley,  dotted  with  pine,  alder,  and 
cottonwood.  Beyond,  a  large  and  beautiful 
lake  sparkled  in  the  sun  as  if  dotted  with  dia- 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       143 

monds.  At  this  body  of  water,  known  afterwards 
as  the  Great  Klamath  Lake,  was  the  scene  of  the 
Klamath  and  Modoc  war  in  1856,  in  which  I 
was  a  participant. 

We  moved  rapidly  down  the  valley,  sending 
six  men  in  advance  to  select  a  winter  camp. 
They  chose  a  spot  on  a  beautiful  stream  about 
a  half  mile  from  the  lake. 

Here  we  built  our  corral  in  the  centre  of  a 
grove  of  pine,  and  put  up  four  lodges  and  three 
tents.  We  had  an  abundance  of  dry  timber  and 
pure  water.  Game  and  fish  were  on  every  side. 

Since  leaving  the  Warm  Springs  on  Des 
Chutes  River  we  had  not  come  in  contact  with 
Indians,  but  an  abundance  of  signs  indicated 
that  they  were  in  close  proximity. 

On  the  third  morning  a  party  of  fifteen  ap- 
peared in  camp,  somewhat  astonished  at  finding 
so  large  a  body  of  whites.  They  saw  at  a 
glance  that  we  were  trappers.  After  they  dis- 
mounted we  invited  them  into  our  largest  lodge, 
and  feasted  and  smoked.  They  were  well 
versed  in  sign -language,  and  Duranger  could 
talk  with  them  in  Chinook.  Lalick,  their  chief, 
asked  all  manner  of  questions.  He  was  of 
medium  size,  dark  complexioned,  and  with 
rather  pleasant  features.  After  our  telling  him 
that  we  intended  to  winter  in  this  place,  he  was 


144      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

satisfied  and  assured  us  that  we  would  not  be 
molested  by  his  people.  Their  village  was  about 
ten  miles  distant,  on  upper  main  Klamath 
River,  and  these  Indians  were  on  a  hunt  after 
elk,  needing  hides  to  repair  their  lodges.  We 
unpacked  some  Indian  goods  and  told  them  we 
would  trade  with  them  for  any  furs  they  might 
bring  to  camp.  Martin  were  very  plentiful  in 
this  section,  and  these  Indians  were  adepts  in 
taking  them.  A  martin  hide  weighs  about  two 
ounces,  and  was  worth  in  those  days  $6  per 
skin.  The  reason  I  mention  this  is  to  give 
some  idea  of  the  amount  in  value  that  could  be 
packed  on  a  horse.  The  average  pack  weighs 
one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  which,  if  packed 
with  martins,  would  mean  in  value  $7200. 

These  Indians  sometimes  cross  the  Cascade 
Mountains  to  Willamette  Valley  to  trade  with 
the  Hudson  Bay  Company.  A  few  of  the 
Hudson  Bay  trappers  had  passed  through  the 
country,  but  no  such  an  outfit  as  ours.  They 
knew  that  there  was  another  class  of  white  men 
called  "Boston  Men"  (Americans).  The  Hud- 
son Bay  men  were  called  "King  George's  Men," 
and  are  so  called  to-day  when  speaking  to  In- 
dians in  Chinook.  East  of  the  Rocky  Mountains 
these  Hudson  Bay  men  were  called  "Redcoats" 
by  the  Indians. 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       H5 

Lalick  told  us  that  there  was  another  tribe 
below  this  lake,  on  a  smaller  lake,  and  they 
were  known  as  Cnltus  Siwask — bad  Indians. 
These  were  the  Modocs,  whom  we  almost  anni- 
hilated in  1856. 

We  passed  the  winter  very  profitably,  many 
of  the  men  learning  the  Chinook  jargon,  which 
was  easily  acquired.  About  every  tribe  of  In- 
dians west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  can  con- 
verse in  this  language. 

Here  was  the  greatest  contrast  between  two 
tribes,  living  in  close  proximity  to  each  other. 
One  was  exceedingly  friendly  and  very  happy 
to  have  whites  in  their  country.  The  other  had 
a  hatred  against  both  whites  and  Indians.  Up 
to  this  time  neither  tribe  could  have  met  with 
many  whites. 

We  asked  Lalick  how  many  warriors  the 
Cultus  Siwash  could  muster,  and  he  counted  on 
his  fingers  several  hundred. 

We  also  found  out  that  they  had  a  few  flint- 
lock guns  and  many  bows  and  arrows,  the 
points  of  which  were  poisoned.  Williams  was 
always  supplied  with  ammonia,  which  was  con- 
sidered an  antidote  for  poison;  it  was  used  by 
scarifying  the  wound  with  the  point  of  a  knife 
and  applying  the  ammonia,  as  well  as  freely  in- 
haling its  fumes. 


146      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

That  winter  we  enjoyed  ourselves  as  few 
mountain  men  ever  had,  and  before  leaving  this 
camp  we  invited  to  a  final  feast  the  head  men 
of  the  village.  Among  these  was  the  noted 
war  chief,  Comtucknay,  a  noble-looking  Indian. 
After  the  feast  we  presented  each  one  with  some 
article,  giving  to  Lalick  and  to  Comtucknay 
each  a  Bannock  pony. 

Highly  pleased  with  their  entertainment,  they 
shook  hands  and  bade  us  farewell,  and  invited 
us  to  come  again.  Lalick  advised  us  to  keep 
along  the  base  of  the  mountains  to  avoid  meeting 
the  Modocs.  The  advice  was  good,  but  was 
not  heeded,  as  after  results  will  show.  The 
next  morning  we  packed  up  and  reached  the 
lower  end  of  the  lake  and  remained  there  two 
days  on  account  of  rain.  Beaver  were  scarce, 
and  the  time  was  spent  in  reading  and  looking 
after  stock. 

On  the  third  day  we  started  for  Lost  River, 
which  empties  into  Tule  Lake  in  the  Modoc 
country,  and  explored  it  to  its  source,  travelling 
through  a  beautiful  valley,  but  found  no  beaver. 

On  our  return  trip  down  the  valley  we  met  a 
party  of  thirty  Indians,  who  approached  us  at 
a  rapid  gait.  They  came  up  boldly  and  in  an 
insulting  manner  ordered  us  to  halt.  They 
wanted  to  know  what  we  were  doing  in  their 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       147 

country.  We  told  them  our  business  and  also 
produced  pipes,  saying,  "We  are  friends." 

They  scornfully  refused  the  proffered  pipes, 
saying,  "We  do  not  smoke  with  white  dogs." 
This  was  dangerous  talk,  for  our  men  under- 
stood every  word  and  could  have  made  short 
work  of  them. 

Their  demand  for  horses  was,  of  course,  re- 
fused, and  the  manner  in  which  they  left  indi- 
cated that  trouble  was  ahead.  These  Indians 
talked  Chinook  and  were  good  in  sign-language. 

We  travelled  east  about  six  miles  to  a  patch 
of  timber,  and  were  fortunate  to  find  a  good 
spring.  A  corral  was  built  and  rifle-pits  dug, 
the  men  jokingly  saying,  "We  are  going  to  have 
another  Bannock  rupture  with  these  devils." 
Just  before  sundown  several  Indians  hovered 
around,  taking  in  our  situation,  but  did  not 
come  close  enough  to  discover  the  preparations 
made  for  their  reception. 

Our  war-horses  were  placed  in  the  centre  of 
the  corral,  surrounded  as  much  as  possible  by 
the  pack-horses,  so  as  to  protect  them  from 
bullets  and  arrows.  In  the  Bannock  fight  we 
had  lost  eleven  pack-horses.  On  the  north 
side  of  camp  were  some  scattering  pines,  and 
should  the  Indians  attack  us  in  force  this 
would  be  the  danger  point,  although  we  had 


148      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

put  up  strong  rifle-pits.  These  pits  are  con- 
structed in  the  following  manner.  A  long  hole 
is  dug  to  extend  completely  around  the  camp, 
the  dirt  being  thrown  up  on  the  outside.  On 
the  top  of  the  loose  dirt  we  placed  logs,  making 
port-holes  under  the  logs.  When  shooting 
through  these  holes  the  logs  protected  our  heads. 
Our  arms  were,  as  usual,  in  prime  condition. 
Rifles  in  those  days  were  muzzle-loaders  and  so 
were  pistols.  Trappers  were  very  expert  in 
making  cartridges  for  both  arms  and  could  load 
and  shoot  a  rifle  four  times  in  a  minute.  I 
have  seen  some  experts  shoot  five  times  a 
minute. 

It  was  full  moon,  and  this  was  greatly  in  our 
favor,  as  we  did  not  know  what  tactics  the 
Modocs  would  pursue. 

Fifteen  men  were  put  on  guard  at  a  time, 
but  nothing  occurred  in  the  night.  At  daylight 
we  could  see  the  Indians  collecting  on  a  high 
knoll  about  a  mile  and  a  half  distant.  Their 
every  action  was  watched  by  Williams  and 
others  with  spy-glasses. 

All  stock  was  watered  and  put  back  in  corral, 
and  we  all  ate  breakfast.  As  these  Indians 
used  poisoned  arrows  the  trappers  prepared 
what  they  called  their  ''coat  of  mail."  All  the 
men  had  heavy  blacktail  deer  skins,  which  they 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       149 

wore  over  their  shirts  or  coats,  tied  or  buttoned 
up  to  the  chin  and  reaching  down  to  the  thighs. 
Just  prior  to  an  engagement  these  were  all 
soaked  in  water  and  wrung  out.  It  is  impos- 
sible for  any  arrow,  whether  iron  or  flint- 
pointed,  to  penetrate  buckskin  so  prepared.  I 
have  heard  many  people  express  doubts  as  to 
this,  and  I  have  always  advised  them  to  wet  a 
piece  of  buckskin  and  try  to  penetrate  it  with 
a  needle. 

By  eight  o'clock  fully  two  hundred  Indians 
had  assembled  on  the  knoll  and  were  holding  a 
great  council.  I  told  Williams  that  I  would 
give  one  hundred  dollars  to  be  there  and  hear 
their  comments  on  the  easy  manner  in  which 
they  were  going  to  "  capture  these  few  white 
dogs"  and  all  their  horses.  The  thirty  Indians 
whom  we  had  met  the  day  previous  had 
counted  our  exact  number,  and  had  taken  note 
of  our  fine  horses  and  the  many  packs.  All  this 
would  be  magnified,  whetting  to  a  high  degree 
the  cupidity  of  the  whole  tribe. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

The  Modocs  Threaten  to  Rub  us  Out.  The  Camp  Rushed. 
Hand-to-Hand  Fighting.  A  Furious  Charge.  We  Lose 
Three  Men.  Modoc  Slaughter.  An  Incident  of  the  Modoc 
War  of  1856.  The  California  Rangers.  The  Massacre  of 
Bloody  Point. 

THE  Modocs  at  length  mounted,  and  in  a 
leisurely  manner  approached  to  within 
three  hundred  yards  of  camp  and  halted.  Two 
of  their  number  dismounted  and  came  towards 
camp  holding  up  both  hands,  which  was  the 
sign  for  "we  have  no  arms." 

Williams  and  I  met  them,  but  we  went  thor- 
oughly armed,  as  we  noticed  bows  and  arrows 
slung  on  their  backs. 

They  were  chiefs  and  asked  us  many  insult- 
ing questions,  calling  us  "dogs,"  demanding  all 
our  horses,  guns,  and,  in  fact,  everything  we 
had.  In  return  for  all  this,  they  said  that  if  we 
complied  with  their  demands  they  would  let 
us  go.  If  we  did  not  comply,  they  would  rub 
us  out,  rubbing  the  palm  of  one  hand  over  the 

150 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       151 

other,  signifying  that  they  would  annihilate  us. 
Williams  replied  in  a  calm  manner,  and  told 
them  that  they  could  have  none  of  our  goods. 
If  they  wished  to  smoke  and  make  friends, 
good,  and  we  would  leave  their  country.  I 
think,  judging  by  their  looks,  that  they  thought 
we  were  afraid  of  them,  for  they  told  us  to  "go, 
dogs."  Williams's  eyes  flashed  fire,  and  I  felt 
like  making  the  Modocs  eat  their  words.  They 
stepped  backwards  for  some  distance,  and  we 
also. 

The  Indians  now  held  a  long  council,  after 
which  about  half  of  their  number  dismounted. 
Their  intention  was  to  rush  camp  and  take  it 
by  assault.  The  footmen  made  a  detour  and 
reached  the  scattering  pines.  The  horsemen 
divided,  and  we  understood  we  would  be  at- 
tacked from  all  sides. 

Fifteen  men  were  detailed  on  the  north  side 
facing  the  scattered  pines,  with  every  prepara- 
tion made  for  a  hand-to-hand  conflict.  Each 
man  had  his  tooth-pick  or  large  knife  in  his 
belt,  besides  a  trapping  hatchet.  The  latter 
contained  two  pounds  of  steel,  a  sharp  and  dan- 
gerous weapon  in  the  hands  of  determined  men 
who  were  contending  for  their  lives. 

When  the  footmen  reached  the  timber  they 
gave  a  signal  for  the  attack,  which  was  re- 


152       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

sponded  to  by  the  horsemen,  who  sent  forth 
yell  after  yell,  thinking,  no  doubt,  it  would 
paralyze  us  with  fear,  but  it  had  the  opposite 
effect.  On  the  south  and  west  the  battle 
opened,  and  the  war-whoops  and  yells  sounded 
to  us  on  the  north  as  if  pandemonium  had 
broken  loose. 

The  footmen  began  a  charge,  firing  a  few 
guns  and  sending  a  flight  of  arrows.  We  re- 
served our  fire  until  they  had  come  within  forty 
yards  of  the  rifle-pits.  The  Modocs  could  not 
see  us  and,  having  noticed  that  no  shots  came 
from  that  side,  they  must  have  thought  that 
we  were  all  contending  against  the  horsemen, 
for  they  came  on  a  run  and  in  close  body. 

We  emptied  our  rifles  and  completely  sur- 
prised them,  for  they  halted  and  looked  bewil- 
dered. Then  the  shotguns  and  Colts  were 
brought  into  play  with  terrible  effect,  almost 
every  shot  bringing  down  an  Indian. 

Seventeen  of  their  bravest  warriors  made  a 
charge  to  the  east  of  us  and  almost  reached  the 
corral,  when  ten  of  our  party  met  them  at 
close  quarters.  It  was  a  furious  hand-to-hand 
conflict  and  showed  the  great  superiority  of 
palefaces  over  Indians.  Pistols,  knives  and 
hatchets  did  terrible  work,  and  in  less  time  than 
it  takes  to  tell  it  fifteen  of  the  Indians  were  dead, 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       153 

two  of  the  attacking  party  making  their  escape. 
There  were  no  casualties  among  the  trappers, 
except  a  few  scratches. 

While  the  hand-to-hand  fight  was  going  on, 
the  five  men  in  the  rifle-pits  kept  the  rest  of 
the  Indians  at  bay.  The  ground  in  front  of  our 
breastwork  was  literally  covered  with  sprawling 
Indians,  many  of  whom  crawled  to  the  trees  and 
were  helped  away  by  their  comrades. 

After  this  repulse  it  was  simply  a  tree  fight 
on  our  side. 

On  the  south  side  of  the  camp  a  hot  fight  was 
raging,  and  some  of  us  rushed  over  just  in  time 
to  assist  in  repelling  a  furious  charge.  Three 
of  our  men  were  down  and  several  others 
wounded,  but  the  latter  were  not  disabled.  On 
this  charge  the  Modocs  came  up  to  within  fifty 
feet  of  the  rifle-pits,  but  with  all  their  bravery 
they  could  not  withstand  the  steady  fire  of  the 
trappers,  and  they  soon  withdrew  to  a  safe 
distance. 

Many  women  arrived  and  rendered  assistance, 
taking  the  dead  and  wounded  back  to  their  vil- 
lage amid  the  most  dismal  howls  that  I  have 
ever  heard. 

At  a  signal  from  the  chief,  the  Indians  col- 
lected in  a  body  to  hold  council. 

We  had  lost  three  good  and  brave  men  who 


154      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

had  been  in  many  a  desperate  engagement. 
These  we  buried  while  the  Indians  were  holding 
council. 

A  single  Indian  was  soon  seen  approaching 
and  he  was  met  by  Williams  and  myself,  and 
we  asked  him  what  he  wanted.  He  said  he 
wanted  us  to  stop  fighting  and  to  let  them  take 
off  the  dead  and  wounded.  We  told  him  to 
send  for  the  women  and  pack  them  off.  He 
returned  to  the  main  body,  and  in  a  short  time 
the  women  appeared  leading  ponies.  They 
packed  two  bodies  on  a  pony,  and  acted  as  if 
they  were  frightened  to  death,  not  knowing 
what  manner  of  men  we  were.  We  dragged  out 
the  fifteen  who  had  been  killed  in  the  hand-to- 
hand  struggle,  and  they  soon  had  them  all 
packed  off. 

Many  of  our  men  were  in  favor  of  making  a 
charge,  knowing  that  we  could  rout  them  with 
ease.  Ours  was  certainly  the  first  large  party 
that  they  had  come  in  contact  with.  They  had, 
no  doubt,  met  with  smaller  outfits,  for  we  found 
on  them  several  trappers'  knives.  At  all  events, 
they  knew  our  exact  numbers  and  they  made 
sure  of  having  overwhelming  odds  in  their 
favor,  expecting  to  win  easily.  Where  their 
calculations  failed  was  in  their  ignorance  of  the 
trappers'  arms.  They  did  not  know  that  each 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       155 

one  was  armed  with  two  six-shooters,  and  that 
we  had  seven  double-barrelled  shotguns  besides 
the  rifles.  Had  they  known  these  things  I 
doubt  very  much  if  they  would  have  attacked 
us  in  the  manner  in  which  they  did. 

After  collecting  all  their  dead  and  wounded 
the  Indians  withdrew. 

An  incident  occurred  in  this  same  grove  dur- 
ing the  Modoc  war  of  1856,  which  will  well  illus- 
trate the  difference  between  the  whites  and 
Indians  in  attack  and  defence. 

General  Crosby  was  commander  of  the  whites, 
and  in  his  command  was  a  company  of  sixty 
rangers,  the  original  California  Rangers  of  which 
I  was  a  member.  The  Modocs  were  in  posses- 
sion of  this  grove,  with  the  rangers  on  the  out- 
side, just  the  reverse  of  our  present  fight.  The 
Indians  outnumbered  the  rangers  two  to  one, 
but  in  just  one  half  hour's  fighting  the  rangers 
routed  the  Indians,  inflicting  considerable  loss, 
and  secured  possession  of  the  grove. 

After  the  Indians  had  retired,  we  turned  out 
our  horses  to  graze,  protected  by  a  guard  of  ten 
men,  mounted  on  their  war-horses. 

Some  of  the  men  climbed  to  the  tops  of  high 
knolls,  so  as  to  get  the  lay  of  the  land.  As  yet 
we  had  collected  no  furs  this  spring,  and  as 
there  was  no  possibility  of  a  trade  with  the 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Modocs,  we  determined  to  break  camp  the  next 
day,  Indians  permitting. 

Our  intention  was  to  travel  eastward  to  the 
base  of  the  Sierra  Nevada.  During  the  day 
we  strengthened  our  position  somewhat  to  pre- 
pare for  another  defence,  as  Lalick  had  claimed 
that  the  Modocs  numbered  several  hundred. 

Stock  was  left  out  until  dark,  and  all  kept  a 
sharp  lookout.  A  few  scattering  Indians  could 
be  seen  towards  the  lake,  but  none  seemed  in- 
clined to  make  our  acquaintance.  The  Indians 
must  have  called  together  all  their  medicine- 
men to  explain  the  cause  of  the  disastrous  de- 
feat at  the  hands  of  a  few  "white  dogs."  At 
all  events  they  did  not  bother  us  during  the 
night. 

At  daybreak  all  our  belongings  were  packed 
and,  mounting  our  war-horses,  we  started.  Ten 
men  acted  as  an  advance  guard.  Ten  brought 
up  the  rear,  and  five  on  each  flank.  At  every 
point  we  were  prepared  to  repel  an  attack.  We 
proceeded  south  for  about  three  miles  and 
struck  a  lodge  pole  trail  leading  from  the  lake, 
going  east.  We  followed  this  trail  to  the  foot 
of  a  bluff  having  a  rise  of  some  three  hundred 
feet. 

It  was  on  top  of  this  bluff  that  the  massacre 
of  twenty-nine  emigrants  by  the  Modocs  oc- 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       157 

curred  in  1852.  Only  three  men  made  their 
escape  to  Yreka,  Cal.,  and  reported  the  occur- 
rence. 

Ben  Wright,  an  old  mountain  man,  collected 
a  company  of  his  acquaintances  to  avenge  this 
slaughter  of  men,  women,  and  children.  He 
met  the  Modocs  on  Lost  River  at  Natural 
Rocky  Ford,  about  twelve  miles  from  our  bat- 
tle ground,  and  after  a  hand-to-hand  conflict 
routed  the  Indians  with  considerable  loss.  That 
was  the  second  defeat  for  the  Modocs. 

Emigrants  taking  the  Saunders  cut-off  to 
northern  California  and  southern  Oregon  used 
to  pass  over  this  trail,  but  after  the  massacre 
they  travelled  by  other  routes.  The  place 
where  the  massacre  occurred  is  called  to-day 
"Bloody  Point." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

Honey  Lake  Valley.  Thieving  Indians.  We  Turn  South.  The 
Truckee  River.  Degraded  Red  Men.  In  a  Mountain 
Storm.  Fortune  Favors  the  Brave.  A  Dismal  Camp. 
Snow-Bound.  Glimpse  of  the  Great  American  Desert. 
Camp  on  Carson  River.  A  Pah  Ute's  Square  Meal.  Grati- 
fied Squaws  and  Skinned  Beavers.  A  Big  Catch  of  Fur. 
Humboldt  Lake.  Hostile  Utes.  One  of  our  Men  Am- 
bushed and  Killed.  A  Sharp  Fight  and  a  Decisive  Victory. 
We  Capture  Forty- three  Horses.  Our  Revenge. 

WE  travelled  east  for  about  ten  miles  and 
reached  Clear  Lake,  a  beautiful  body  of 
water.     Plenty   of   Indian   signs  were   in  evi- 
dence, but  no  Indians. 

For  camp  we  selected  a  small  point  of  land 
which  extended  out  into  the  lake,  and  dug  a 
few  rifle-pits.  Deer  and  antelope  were  plenty 
and  we  secured  quantities  of  fresh  meat. 
By  this  time  we  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  Modocs  were  not  as  numerous  as  Lalick 
had  reported,  or  they  surely  would  have  given 
us  another  battle. 

Next  day  we  continued  east  to  a  fair-sized 

158 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       159 

stream  running  south,  a  branch  of  the  noted 
Pitt  River,  but  not  known  to  us  at  that  time. 

In  July,  1844,  we  reached  a  beautiful  valley 
called  to-day  Honey  Lake  Valley,  but  at  that 
time  without  a  name.  We  remained  here  three 
months,  enjoying  ourselves  as  only  men  can 
who  love  the  grandeur  of  .nature.  Our  time  was 
spent  in  exploring,  hunting,  fishing,  reading,  and 
practising  with  all  arms. 

Many  Indians  came  to  camp  bringing  furs, 
for  which  we  traded.  They  appeared  to  be  very 
poor  and  were  very  indifferent  sign-talkers,  al- 
though we  got  along  with  them  for  a  time. 
Towards  the  last  they  commenced  stealing,  and 
when  caught  doing  this  we  let  them  feel  the 
weight  of  whips  applied  by  "  Kentucky  George," 
who  understood  his  business.  At  this  the  In- 
dians ceased  their  visits,  which  was  a  sign  to 
look  out  for  some  devilment.  We  always  kept 
guard  both  night  and  day.  By  experienced 
mountain  men  that  practice  is  never  omitted. 

Early  one  morning  shots  were  fired  by  the 
guards,  and  we  rushed  out  just  as  an  Indian 
ran  by  the  lodge.  One  shot  put  an  end  to  him. 
The  guards  had  killed  four  others  with  shot- 
guns. As  it  was  break  of  day  we  scouted  the 
valley  for  some  distance,  but  discovered  no 
more  Indians. 


160      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

We  had  treated  these  Indians  with  all  kind- 
ness, and  their  acts  in  trying  to  steal  offended 
the  men.  Some  were  in  favor  of  attacking  the 
village. 

We  held  a  council  and  determined  to  set  an 
example  by  cremating  the  five  whom  we  had 
killed. 

This  was  done  in  an  "approved  manner,"  as 
Perkins  said.  There  was  plenty  of  pitch  pine 
and  other  dry  material  close  at  hand,  and  the 
dead  Indians  were  carefully  placed  in  the  centre 
of  a  big  pile.  By  noon  only  ashes  were  left, 
which  brought  forth  Perkins's  remark. 

I  have  been  told  by  intelligent  men  that 
it  was  cruel  in  us  to  cremate  these  Indians. 
Wherein  the  cruelty?  Do  not  our  leading  scien- 
tists advocate  cremation  as  the  proper  mode  of 
disposing  of  the  dead?  It  was  practised  in 
both  ancient  and  modern  times.  Bear  in  mind 
that  ninety -eight  per  cent,  of  mountain  men 
were  pronounced  free-thinkers,  and  as  a  rule 
they  were  more  humane,  more  generous,  truer 
to  friends,  with  less  deception  than  those  in 
civilization,  with  few  exceptions. 

We  held  several  councils  as  to  our  future 
route.  Some  who  had  been  in  southern  Cali- 
fornia advocated  returning  by  way  of  Los 
Angeles.  Others  wanted  to  take  the  eastern 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains      161 

route  by  way  of  Carson  City.  This  route  was 
finally  decided  on,  as  the  prospect  for  collecting 
furs  was  better;  and  about  the  loth  of  October 
we  broke  camp  and  moved  in  a  southerly  direc- 
tion along  the  base  of  the  mountains. 

On  leaving  camp  we  noticed  a  few  Indians 
watching  our  movements,  no  doubt  glad  of  our 
departure,  as  they  would  be  able  to  recover 
their  five  friends.  They  probably  found  the 
ashes.  It  would  be  a  lesson  for  them  to  leave 
white  men's  horses  alone,  and  it  would  be  com- 
mented on  for  many  a  moon  in  their  councils. 

We  trapped  all  the  streams  leading  from  the 
mountains,  and  reached  Pyramid  Lake  in  what 
is  now  the  State  of  Nevada.  Here  we  met  a 
village  of  Pah  Utes,  who  were  able  to  converse 
in  the  Shoshone  language.  I  noticed  that  a 
few  of  them  had  flint  and  steel  such  as  trappers 
used  for  making  fire,  but  the  majority  used 
sticks. 

They  thought  we  were  a  new  tribe  of  white 
men  because  we  used  pads  on  our  runners  and 
were  bronzed  like  Indians.  Here  we  traded  for 
a  few  furs,  but  we  offended  the  Indians  when 
we  refused  to  let  them  have  our  best  horses. 

Our  next  stop  was  on  the  Truckee  River,  and 
during  the  journey  we  saw  more  blacktail  deer 
than  I  have  ever  seen  before  or  since.  It  was 


1 62       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

a  hunter's  paradise,  with  the  streams  full  of 
fish  and  blue  grouse  in  every  direction.  A  blue 
grouse  is  the  daintiest  of  food  and  has  no  equal 
among  fowl. 

At  the  upper  end  of  this  river  is  a  large  lake 
and  beautiful  valley,  which  in  1853  were  called 
Biglow's  Lake  and  Valley,  but  later  on,  I  am 
told,  were  renamed  Strawberry  Lake  and  Valley. 
In  1844  the  lake  had  no  name,  the  Indians  in 
signs  calling  it  "Upper  Lake." 

A  small  band  of  Indians  had  their  village 
about  a  half  mile  from  our  camp.  They  were  a 
miserable  and  degraded  set.  I  doubt  if  our  ances- 
tors of  a  million  years  back  could  have  been 
more  so.  They  could  properly  be  classed  with 
the  savages  of  the  flint  age,  as  they  used  flint  for 
the  points  of  arrows  and  spears,  of  indifferent 
manufacture.  Game  was  readily  approached  and 
they  were  easily  able  to  supply  themselves  with 
meat,  while  they  were  expert  in  catching  fish. 
They  were  notorious  beggars  and  thieves. 

As  we  left  this  camp  dark  clouds  began  to 
gather,  foreboding  heavy  snow,  and  we  started 
to  cross  the  mountains.  At  noon  it  began  to 
snow,  and  when  on  the  summit  the  trail  was 
completely  obliterated.  Any  but  experienced 
mountain  men  would  have  been  bewildered,  and 
as  it  was  it  put  us  all  on  our  mettle.  Imagine 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       163 

yourselves  driving  two  hundred  and  fifty  horses, 
and  with  the  snowflakes  falling  so  fast  and 
thick  that  all  view  was  obliterated,  and  you 
will  have  some  idea  of  our  condition.  To  ex- 
tricate ourselves  without  the  loss  of  some  of  the 
live  stock  in  this  strange  country,  among  dense 
forests  of  pine,  cool  and  practical  judgment  was 
required.  In  such  an  instance  there  must  be  no 
bewilderment  or  everything  is  lost.  I  observed 
in  the  features  of  all  the  men  a  coolness  and  de- 
termination which  would  have  been  commend- 
able in  any  general  in  a  desperate  battle,  where 
victory  or  defeat  hung  in  the  balance.  Ten 
men  rode  in  advance,  two  abreast;  all  loose 
stock  following.  The  remainder  of  the  trappers 
rode  on  each  side  of  the  loose  stock  to  keep  them 
from  straggling. 

We  followed  a  given  course,  taking  the  light 
breeze  for  a  guide.  Soon  we  found  ourselves 
going  down  a  steep  ridge,  floundering  through 
deep  snow,  not  knowing  where  we  should  bring 
up,  and  finally  reached  a  plateau. 

We  could  not  see  any  distance,  but  as  it 
would  not  do  to  camp  here,  we  journeyed  on, 
keeping  to  the  right,  as  we  thought,  and  hurry- 
ing along,  for  it  was  getting  late.  The  old  say- 
ing is  "  fortune  favors  the  brave. "  In  this  case 
it  favored  us. 


1 64      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

For  half  an  hour  we  continued  our  course, 
descending  all  the  time,  and  at  length  came  to 
a  level  bottom.  To  our  left  we  heard  a  fall  of 
water,  and  found  there  a  small  creek  fringed 
with  cottonwood.  We  soon  had  our  lodges  and 
tents  up  and  all  packs  secure  in  a  large  tent. 
The  horses  were  turned  out  to  graze  with  six 
men  as  guards.  The  snow  was  now  fully  twelve 
inches  deep.  Here  our  spades  came  well  into 
play;  while  some  shovelled  snow,  others  col- 
lected a  quantity  of  dry  wood,  and  none  too 
soon,  for  when  the  last  load  of  wood  was  brought 
in  it  was  dark.  There  was  no  time  to  build  a 
corral,  so  the  horses  were  tied  to  trees.  The 
snow  was  still  falling,  and  it  looked  gloomy. 

We  did  not  know  what  kind  of  a  country  we 
were  in.  All  we  were  certain  of  was  water  and 
timber  on  our  left  and  the  level  we  were  camped 
on.  Whether  there  were  any  Indians  in  the 
neighborhood  we  had  no  time  to  ascertain,  but 
we  kept  a  guard — two  men  at  a  time — with  one 
hour  reliefs.  I  have  been  in  many  a  dismal 
place,  but  none  more  so  than  this.  Several  of 
the  men  had  watches,  and  when  daylight  should 
have  appeared  it  was  still  dark  and  the  snow 
was  still  falling.  At  seven  o'clock  the  snow  was 
two  feet  deep,  with  no  sign  of  abating.  We 
untied  the  horses  and  sent  a  strong  guard  with 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       165 

them  in  case  of  a  stampede,  although  a  hundred 
of  them  had  chains  on  their  fore -fetlocks. 

It  stopped  snowing  at  two  o'clock,  but  con- 
tinued cloudy.  The  next  morning  the  sun  made 
its  appearance.  A  white  shroud  covered  the 
country  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  but  on  one 
point  we  were  satisfied,  and  that  was  that  we 
were  out  of  the  mountains.  We  remained  in 
this  camp  four  days,  by  which  time  most  of  the 
snow  had  disappeared.  On  the  morning  of  the 
fifth  day  we  moved  along  the  base  of  the  moun- 
tains, crossing  several  high  ridges,  until  we 
came  to  a  small  valley  and  creek.  From  a  high 
promontory  we  had  a  fair  view  of  the  surround- 
ing country.  To  the  south  was  an  open  low- 
lying  valley,  which  some  of  our  men  pronounced 
Carson  Valley,  and  declared  that  the  shining 
looking  country  beyond  was  the  Great  American 
Desert. 

Our  next  camp  was  on  Carson  River,  and  we 
selected  a  strong  position,  as  Indian  signs  were 
abundant.  A  sight  which  gave  us  much  en- 
couragement was  the  many  beaver  signs. 

We  had  just  finished  putting  up  our  tents  and 
lodges  when  a  dozen  mounted  Indians  rode  into 
camp.  They  were  Pah  Utes  and  very  intelli- 
gent, and  told  us  their  village  was  some  distance 
below  our  camp.  They  asked  us  where  we  had 


1 66       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

come  from,  and  seemed  pleased  when  we  told 
them  that  we  intended  remaining  all  winter  to 
trap  the  streams.  They  next  asked  us  to  give 
them  some  of  the  beaver  meat  which  they  rel- 
ished highly.  All  the  beaver  they  secured  was 
what  they  shot  with  arrows.  A  few  of  these 
Indians  understood  a  little  Spanish,  which 
showed  that  they  had  come  in  contact  with  that 
people.  Besides,  they  had  a  few  Spanish  flint- 
lock guns,  but  no  ammunition.  They  had  to 
depend  for  meat  wholly  on  bows  and  arrows. 
Antelope  were  plentiful,  but  notwithstanding 
their  expertness  in  the  use  of  bows,  they  often 
suffered  from  lack  of  food.  They  caught  a 
great  many  fish,  such  as  suckers  and  whitefish, 
but  these  are  poor  eating. 

We  invited  the  Indians  to  sup  with  us,  and 
the  quantity  of  food  they  devoured  would  have 
astonished  a  gourmand  from  the  East.  I  sup- 
pose it  was  the  first  square  meal  they  had  par- 
taken of  for  years.  After  supper  the  Indians 
departed,  notifying  us  that  they  would  see  us 
the  next  day. 

That  night  we  set  traps  and  put  only  one 
man  on  guard.  Our  sleep  was  undisturbed — a 
rare  thing  in  a  trapper's  life. 

The  next  morning  at  daylight  the  stock  was 
turned  out  with  two  herders,  and  all  the  others 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       167 

went  after  beaver,  returning  with  a  good  catch. 
After  breakfast  the  skinners  went  at  the  beaver, 
and  had  the  hides  off  when  the  Indians  made 
their  appearance.  They  were  astonished  at  the 
number  of  beaver  we  had  caught.  When  we 
told  the  women  they  could  take  the  skinned 
beaver  with  them,  they  were  pleased  beyond 
expression,  and  insisted  on  shaking  every  one  of 
us  by  the  hand. 

For  the  next  six  weeks  we  were  busy  handling 
furs,  and  experienced  no  difficulty  with  these 
Indians.  Peace  and  harmony  prevailed,  and 
the  general  routine  of  a  trapper's  life  was 
unbroken. 

On  the    25th  of   February,  1845,  we  parted 
from  our  Indian  friends,  the  whole  village  hav- 
ing assembled  to  see  us  off,  and  all  united  in  i 
cordially  inviting  us  to  come  again  to  their 
country. 

From  the  camp  on  Carson  River  we  took  the 
Indian  trail  to  what  is  now  called  Humboldt 
Lake,  fifty  miles  across  the  desert,  reaching 
there  at  five  o'clock  with  all  our  horses  in  prime 
condition. 

We  trapped  up  the  river  to  a  rocky  point, 
when  a  war-party  of  fifty  Indians  intercepted 
us  and  wanted  to  know  what  we  were  doing  in 
their  country.  In  an  arrogant  manner  they 


1 68       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

demanded  some  of  our  horses  and  many  other 
things.  These  Indians  were  a  branch  of  the 
Pah  Utes,  and  we  plainly  saw  that  unless  we 
were  very  careful  we  should  have  trouble  with 
them.  With  all  Williams's  diplomatic  tricks  he 
could  not  induce  them  to  smoke  the  pipe  of 
peace,  and  they  departed  looking  daggers  at  us- 
As  there  were  plenty  of  beaver  signs  we  de- 
termined to  trap  here,  even  if  we  had  to  fight. 
We  constructed  corrals  and  prepared  for  every 
emergency. 

That  night  we  set  our  traps  and  were  not 
disturbed,  but  we  suspected  that  the  Indians 
were  up  to  some  deviltry. 

Next  morning  the  trappers  all  returned,  with 
the  exception  of  Frederick  Crawford,  who  had 
set  traps  some  distance  from  camp.  As  he 
failed  to  return  at  ten  o'clock,  ten  of  us  mounted 
and  went  to  see  what  had  become  of  him. 

Docket,  who  was  next  outside  trapper,  had 
seen  Crawford  setting  traps  at  a  bend  in  the 
river  at  some  distance,  and  to  that  point  we 
went. 

Scouting  to  some  cottonwood  groves  to  make 
sure  there  was  no  ambush,  we  went  in  and  soon 
discovered  where  traps  had  been  set  and  also 
Indian  tracks.  Then  we  were  satisfied  that 
Crawford  had  gone  under.  We  saw  where  his 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       169 

horse  had  stood  and,  going  to  a  thick  bunch  of 
willows,  we  found  the  ground  saturated  with 
blood.  The  Indians  had  lain  hidden  in  this 
bunch  of  willows,  knowing  that  the  trapper 
would  come  in  the  morning  to  look  after  his 
traps.  By  the  signs  the  Indians  had  made 
there  must  have  been  six  or  eight  of  them. 
They  had  thrown  Crawford  in  the  river,  which 
was  four  feet  deep.  We  could  easily  see  him 
and  soon  had  him  out. 

When  we  had  poor  Crawford  out  on  the  bank, 
I  would  have  liked  to  have  present  one  of  those 
sensitive  beings  who  hold  up  their  hands  in 
horror  when  they  hear  of  a  trapper  scalping  an 
Indian. 

He  was  scalped,  his  eyes  were  gouged  out,  his 
face  was  slashed  with  a  knife,  and  he  was  other- 
wise mutilated  in  a  way  too  horrible  to  describe. 

Crawford,  who  came  from  Texas,  was  a  hand- 
some man,  six  feet  tall,  well  educated,  brave, 
kind,  and  generous.  We  found  five  of  Craw- 
ford's traps  and  four  beaver.  The  Indians  got 
the  remainder,  with  his  rifle,  two  pistols,  and  a 
horse. 

We  were  soon  back  in  camp  with  the  body  of 
our  comrade.  When  our  men  saw  Crawford  it 
was  plain  that  death  would  be  the  penalty  to 
any  of  those  Indians  should  they  be  caught. 


1 70      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

We  dug  a  secret  grave  and,  wrapping  Craw- 
ford up  in  his  blankets,  put  him  carefully  away. 
No  monument  marks  the  grave  where  this  kind 
and  brave  man  was  laid  to  rest.  Such  too  often 
was  the  fate  of  trappers,  many  of  them  not  even 
receiving  burial. 

At  two  in  the  afternoon  our  pickets  signalled, 
"Indians  coming  on  horseback."  We  soon  had 
all  our  stock  in  corral  and  were  prepared  at 
every  point.  The  pickets  now  came  in  and  re- 
ported having  counted  sixty  Indians.  They 
soon  made  their  appearance  on  a  ridge,  about 
three  hundred  yards  from  camp.  They  deliv- 
ered one  shot,  which  came  so  close  that  some 
of  the  trappers  said,  "That  is  Crawford's  rifle; 
we  will  recapture  it." 

The  Indians  now  challenged  us  to  come  out 
and  fight.  Crawford's  death  had  cut  our  num- 
ber down  to  thirty -eight,  but  that  did  not  mat- 
ter. It  was  impossible  to  hold  the  men  in. 
Leaving  three  men  to  take  care  of  camp,  the 
others  mounted  and  started  out. 

When  the  Indians  saw  us  mount  they  gave 
yell  after  yell,  thinking,  no  doubt,  that  we 
would  become  paralyzed  with  fear.  They  di- 
vided and  charged  us  from  two  sides.  We  let 
them  get  to  within  one  hundred  yards,  when  we 
halted  and  brought  our  rifles  into  play.  Drop- 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       171 

ping  rifles  on  the  ground,  we  charged  them 
pistols  in  hand.  Fully  twenty-five  Indians  fell 
from  the  rifle  shots.  This  bewildered  them,  and 
before  they  could  recover  we  were  amongst 
them. 

A  fight  like  this  lasts  only  a  few  minutes,  and 
very  few  Indians  made  their  escape.  One  tall 
Indian  was  riding  Crawford's  horse  and  he  tried 
to  get  away,  but  delayed  too  long.  One  of  our 
men  caught  him  and  recovered  horse,  rifle,  and 
pistols. 

We  captured  forty -three  ponies  and  collected 
all  such  plunder  as  we  cared  for,  besides  ridding 
the  earth  of  a  lot  of  insulting  Indians.  Craw- 
ford was  fully  avenged. 

A  few  of  our  men  received  arrow  wounds, 
but  none  were  serious.  We  lost  but  two  horses, 
shot  in  the  breast. 

This  was  undoubtedly  the  first  fight  these 
Indians  had  made  against  an  outfit  like  ours, 
otherwise  they  would  have  exercised  better  gen- 
eralship. The  main  secret  of  the  trappers'  suc- 
cess was  in  making  every  shot  count  in  the  first 
volley.  This  bewildered  the  Indians,  and  be- 
fore they  could  collect  their  thoughts  we  rushed 
in  among  them. 

There  was  no  question  that  our  outfit  was 
the  most  effective  fighting  body  of  trappers  on 


i72       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

the  plains.  It  contained  men  who,  I  firmly 
believe,  would  have  been  able  to  command  an 
army.  It  is  a  question  in  my  mind  if  any 
soldiers  of  any  nation  were  as  well  drilled  in 
the  use  of  rifles  and  pistols  as  this  body  of 
trappers. 

The  horses  also  were  drilled  to  stand  fire  and 
to  be  quick  in  evolutions.  The  war-whoops  and 
yells  of  Indians  did  not  affect  them.  They 
simply  pricked  up  their  ears  or  looked  uncon- 
cerned. 

After  the  fight  we  held  a  council  and  decided 
that  it  would  be  best  to  move  from  this  place, 
as  we  did  not  know  how  many  warriors  these 
Indians  could  muster.  At  any  rate,  it  would 
not  be  safe  for  one  or  two  men  to  go  any  dis- 
tance from  camp  after  furs. 

We  now  raised  all  our  traps  and  by  three 
o'clock  started  up  the  river.  A  few  Indians 
could  be  seen  riding  swiftly  along  the  base  of 
the  mountains,  for  what  purpose  we  could  not 
tell,  nor  did  we  care.  We  were  aware  of  one 
thing,  and  that  was  that  they  would  be  anxious 
to  find  out  about  those  Indians  who  failed  to 
return  to  the  village.  The  reader  may  be  cer- 
tain that  when  they  found  that  their  invincible 
warriors  had  gone  to  their  happy  hunting- 
grounds  without  their  scalp-locks,  there  would 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       173 

be  much  wailing,  gashing  of  flesh,  and  cutting 
off  of  fingers. 

They  would  be  occupied  for  some  time  to 
come  with  the  laying  away  of  their  braves,  and 
also  in  calling  on  all  their  medicine -men  for 
an  explanation.  Poor  Crawford's  scalp  at  this 
time  would  suffer  untold  indignities. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

We  Move  Camp.  Crestfallen  Trappers.  Blackfoot  Victims. 
Fur  Company  Traders.  Hot  Springs.  Our  Company 
Breaks  up.  Expedition  to  the  Big  Horn  Mountains.  We 
Stand  off  the  Blackfeet.  An  Arrogant  Leader  and  a 
Coward.  The  "Tartar  Outfit." 

WE  reached  what  is  called  Thousand  Spring 
Valley  after  dark  and  unpacked,  but 
kept  all  stock  close.  We  built  no  fires  and  put 
up  no  lodges. 

By  daylight  we  had  packed  and  at  two 
o'clock  we  reached  Raft  River.  A  short  dis- 
tance below  smoke  was  discernible,  which  on 
investigation  proved  to  be  from  a  camp  of 
seven  Hudson  Bay  men,  who  were  trapping. 

We  soon  had  a  feast  prepared  and  invited 
these  men  to  join  us,  for  they  looked  hungry  and 
crestfallen.  Duranger,  who  was  acquainted 
with  them,  asked  the  cause,  and  they  replied 
that  the  Indians  had  stolen  seven  head  of 
horses  from  them,  leaving  three,  a  number  in- 
sufficient to  pack  their  furs. 

These  big  companies  treated  their  men  like 

174 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       175 

peons.  They  were  poorly  armed,  and  had  but 
a  scant  supply  of  food.  They  had  to  depend 
on  their  own  resources  and  live  on  what  the 
country  produced,  which  to  them  meant  beaver 
meat  and  berries  in  season.  The  story  of  the 
Hudson  Bay  Company's  treatment  of  their  em- 
ployees is  too  well  known  to  be  commented  on, 
although  I  will  say  that  if  I  had  my  choice  be- 
tween being  a  slave  with  some  masters  in 
Missouri  or  being  a  Hudson  Bay  employee,  I 
would  prefer  the  former.  We  gave  each  one  of 
them  an  Indian  pony,  giving  them  a  bill  of 
sale,  so  that  they  could  show  their  title  to  the 
"busware"  (bourgeois  =  bo$s).  We  also  traded 
seven  more  of  the  Indian  ponies  for  furs,  and 
advised  them  to  leave  this  section,  as  the  In- 
dians would  most  likely  follow  us.  And  what 
chance  would  these  men  have,  armed  with  a 
few  old  Hudson  Bay  flint-lock  guns?  They 
took  our  advice  and  accompanied  us  to  Goose 
Creek,  west  of  the  Goose  Mountains.  Here  we 
separated,  the  Canadians  going  down  Goose 
Creek  and  we  continuing  on  to  Bear  River. 

We  trapped  Bear  River  and  crossed  over  to 
Green  River,  picking  up  considerable  fur.  We 
then  crossed  over  to  Warm  Land  via  the  Big 
Wind  River  Valley  and  visited  the  hot  springs, 
remaining  there  three  days. 


176       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

We  met  four  trappers  coming  from  the  lower 
country,  where  they  had  lost  all  their  horses 
and  one  companion,  killed  by  Blackfeet.  These 
men  were  strangers  to  all  of  us  and  stated  that 
they  were  employed  by  the  Northwestern  Fur 
Company.  We  presented  each  one  of  these 
with  a  pony  and  advised  them  to  get  out  of 
this  section,  as  Blackfeet  war-parties  were  nu- 
merous. They  took  our  advice,  but  they  did  not 
seem  aware  of  the  danger.  It  was  a  sin  for 
these  companies  to  send  out  a  few  men,  poorly 
armed,  on  these  trapping  expeditions.  They 
cared  nothing  for  the  lives  of  their  employees. 
All  they  wanted  was  furs. 

We  held  a  general  council  as  to  what  route 
we  should  take,  as  the  trapping  season  was  over. 
Many  of  the  men  had  decided  to  take  a  trip 
East  to  visit  relations.  All  of  them,  except 
Duranger  and  "Scotty,"  came  from  three 
States,  Missouri,  Kentucky,  and  Virginia.  We 
finally  decided  to  cut  across  country  and  go  to 
the  North  Platte  River  to  pick  up  a  few  buffalo. 
We  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  Laramie  River 
without  mishap,  and  there  met  an  emigrant 
train  going  to  Oregon.  This  occurrence  brought 
home  the  truth  of  Williams 's  prediction  to  Dr. 
McLaughlin.  It  was  also  our  first  intimation  of 
the  Mormon  migration  to  Salt  Lake  Valley. 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       177 

Twenty -five  of  our  men  concluded  to  go  to 
St.  Louis  and  take  their  furs  with  them.  Our 
party  or  mess  sold  our  furs  to  buyers  who  were 
present,  and  settled  up  everything  among  our- 
selves. The  original  thirteen  all  returned. 

Thus  more  than  a  band  of  brothers  parted 
company,  few  of  them  to  meet  again.  Many  re- 
mained in  the  East  and  settled  down.  Williams 
went  to  Santa  Fe,  accompanied  by  Perkins  and 
six  others.  .It  was  the  only  sad  parting  I  have 
ever  experienced. 

An  exploring  party  desired  to  visit  the  Big 
Horn  Mountains,  and  engaged  Docket,  Noble, 
Evans,  Russell  and  myself  to  accompany  them. 
This  party  was  sent  out  by  the  Northwestern 
Fur  Company,  as  we  afterwards  found  out,  to 
ascertain  if  there  were  a  favorable  location  to 
establish  a  trading-post  in  that  section.  Had 
we  been  aware  of  this  we  would  not  have  gone, 
although  they  paid  us  well. 

On  Powder  River  we  had  to  take  to  timber 
in  order  to  stand  off  a  war-party  of  thirty  Black- 
feet.  There  were  ten  in  our  party,  but  only 
five  armed  as  prairie  men  should  be  in  those 
days.  The  Indians  shot  several  times  at  long 
range,  and  we  emptied  three  of  their  saddles, 
and  to  our  disgust  were  blamed  by  our  em- 
ployer. None  of  his  party  had  ever  been  in  a 


178      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

battle,  and  they  knew  very  little  about  Indians. 
The  head  of  the  party  was  named  Overstall, 
and  he  was  an  arrogant  sort  of  a  fellow,  who 
thought  we  were  like  the  remainder  of  the 
Northwestern  Fur  Company's  employees.  We 
took  pleasure  in  informing  him  that  we  be- 
longed to  the  free  traders  and  trappers,  and 
held  all  the  big  companies  in  contempt.  We 
also  told  him  to  let  up  with  his  arrogance  or  we 
would  leave  him  and  let  him  get  out  of  the 
country  as  best  he  could. 

An  imbecile  proposition  that  he  made  was  for 
us  to  go  and  have  a  talk  with  the  Indians,  and 
let  them  know  we  were  their  friends.  The  idea 
of  meeting  Blackfeet  Indians,  after  having  been 
run  into  the  timber  and  shot  at,  was  preposter- 
ous— not  to  be  thought  of  for  a  moment. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  when 
the  Indians  forced  us  to  take  to  timber,  and  they 
hovered  around  until  three,  occasionally  throw- 
ing a  shot  at  us  at  long  range.  We  wasted  no 
more  ammunition,  though  had  they  come  within 
range  it  would  have  been  different. 

The  old  man  thought  that  this  point  would 
make  a  very  desirable  location  for  a  trading- 
post.  We  were  within  one  mile  of  where  Fort 
Reno  was  established  years  afterwards. 

Finally  the  Indians  disappeared,  and  Docket, 


m 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       179 

Noble  and  myself  mounted  our  horses  and 
scouted  the  country  for  two  miles,  taking  the 
Indian  trail,  which  led  towards  the  south  end  of 
the  Big  Horn  Mountains.  On  our  return  we 
reported  that  these  Indians  were  either  Blood 
or  Piegans,  as  those  two  branches  of  the  Black- 
feet  often  went  to  war  mounted. 

The  old  man  just  then  remembered  that  he 
had  pressing  and  important  business  on  Platte 
River  and  at  St.  Louis,  and  that  there  was  not 
a  moment  to  spare  in  getting  there.  He  and 
his  four  companions  had  an  attack  of  the  ague. 
They  asked  if  we  could  find  our  way  back  in 
the  night?  If  so,  they  would  make  it  worth 
our  while  to  reach  Laramie  River  as  soon  as 
possible.  It  was  disgusting  to  see  such  coward- 
ice. We  ate,  mounted,  and  started,  and  trav- 
elled at  a  lively  gait.  They  asked  us  many 
times  if  we  thought  the  Indians  would  follow 
us.  To  these  questions  we  answered  ''No,  but 
we  might  come  across  others,"  which  was  true, 
although  we  did  not  expect  to. 

About  midnight  we  halted  and  made  coffee 
and  lunched.  We  told  the  old  man  to  eat  and 
then  sleep  for  two  or  three  hours,  for  he  ap- 
peared exhausted.  His  men  spread  blankets 
for  him  and  he  lay  down,  but  not  to  sleep,  for 
every  few  minutes  he  would  rise  and  ask  if 


i8o      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

there  were  any  danger  yet.  We  told  him  to 
sleep,  that  we  would  look  out  for  him. 

After  two  hours  he  could  stand  it  no  longer, 
and  begged  us  to  saddle  up  as  soon  as  possible, 
as  he  had  a  premonition  that  the  Indians  were 
upon  us.  His  thoughts  dwelt  on  nothing  but 
Indians. 

We  started  and  reached  Rush  Creek  on  North 
Platte  River,  opposite  where  Fort  Fetterman 
now  stands,  at  seven  in  the  morning.  Some 
Mormons  were  camped  there.  The  old  man  and 
his  men  were  completely  worn  out.  There  was 
not  much  force  or  snap  in  any  of  them.  We 
cooked  breakfast  and  called  the  old  man,  but 
he  could  not  eat,  though  he  emptied  a  flask  of 
brandy,  with  which  he  was  well  supplied.  He 
invited  us  to  partake  of  it,  but  we  declined  with 
thanks,  saying  that  he  would  require  all  he  had 
for  himself  and  friends.  We  remained  there 
over  night,  the  old  man  evidently  forgetting 
that  his  presence  was  urgently  needed  in  St. 
Louis. 

We  reached  Laramie  on  the  second  day,  de- 
positing Overstall  and  his  four  men  at  Tebeau's, 
all  five  of  them  being  in  a  condition  fit  for  the 
hospital. 

Overstall  settled  with  us  and  said  he  would 
get  his  company  to  give  us  employment.  We 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       181 

thanked  him  and  told  him  his  company  had  not 
sufficient  means  to  employ  us,  and  then  added 
that  we  were  free  trappers  and  would  not  be 
employed  by  any  one. 

Docket,  Noble,  Evans,  Russell,  and  myself 
remained  together  for  many  years,  and  were 
known  as  the  "Tartar  outfit." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Washakie  Again.  The  Joy  of  Youth.  A  Buffalo  Hunt. 
Stinking  Water.  Crow  and  Shoshone  Horse-Racing.  A 
Peaceful  Camp.  Sign-Language.  The  Mexican  War.  I 
Visit  St.  Louis.  Home  is  Changed.  "Westward  Ho!" 
I  Pilot  an  Oregon  Emigrant  Train.  Attacked  by  Pawnees. 
Out  of  Deference  to  the  Ladies  we  do  not  Scalp.  Mormon 
Emigrants.  Fort  Hall.  The  Fur  Companies  and  their 
Employees. 

T  A  TE  had  a  few  things  stored  at  Green  River, 
»  *  so  we  returned  there  and  settled  up. 
Washakie  was  preparing  to  start  on  his  fall 
hunt  in  the  Big  Horn  country  and  we  men- 
tioned to  him  that  we  would  like  to  accompany 
the  village.  Besides  wishing  to  explore  that 
section,  we  were  desirous  of  studying  more  ac- 
curately the  habits  and  characteristics  of  the 
Shoshones.  Washakie  was  delighted,  and  we 
bought  one  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  choice 
Indian  goods  to  trade,  as  the  opportunity  might 
occur. 

*C        We  started  on  the  first  day  of  October,  trav- 
elling by  easy  stages.     At  night  the  young  folks 

182 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains        183 

would  keep  the  village  awake  until  midnight 
with  their  singing  and  dancing.  They  enjoyed 
life  for  all  it  was  worth,  giving  no  heed  to  the 
morrow.  A  happy  aggregation  on  the  whole, 
one  to  be  envied  by  many.  The  older  members 
of  the  camp  would  hold  councils  and  would 
speculate  on  what  tribes  were  most  likely  to  be 
met  with  on  the  journey. 

In  eight  days  we  crossed  the  Snake  Range  of 
mountains  and  found  our  first  buffalo,  a  small 
herd  of  about  two  hundred.  About  seventy- 
five  Indians  mounted  their  best  horses  and 
started  after  them.  It  was  a  sight  worth  going 
hundreds  of  miles  to  see,  and  only  the  pen  of 
Mark  Twain  could  describe  the  ridiculous  mis- 
haps which  occurred, — ponies  falling,  riders  go- 
ing heels  over  head,  getting  up  with  a  yell, 
remounting,  and  off  again  in  pursuit  of  some 
wounded  buffalo. 

They  secured  over  two  hundred  head,  which 
was  an  abundance,  although  large  quantities  of 
meat  were  required  to  supply  a  village  of  one 
hundred  lodges. 

We  crossed  the  Big  Horn  River  and  pro- 
ceeded to  the  noted  Stinking  Water.  Washakie 
pointed  out  the  hot  springs,  and  on  the  west 
side  of  the  main  Stinking  Water  we  saw  several 
sulphur  springs  which  were  apparently  dying 


1 84      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

out.  The  main  spring  is  in  the  canon  at  the 
base  of  the  mountain,  and  its  fumes  can  be 
smelled  for  miles.  I  have  heard  it  said  that 
there  were  sulphur  springs  on  the  north  and 
south  forks  of  Stinking  Water;  but  we  did  not 
see  them,  nor  did  Washakie  mention  the  fact. 

We  had  been  in  this  camp  seven  days  when 
a  party  of  Crow  Indians  arrived  on  a  visit  to 
the  Shoshones.  They  said  their  village  was  on 
another  river  called  Sun  Dance  (Clark's  Fork), 
and  that  they  had  come  over  to  see  their  friends. 
They  brought  three  good-looking  ponies  and 
wanted  to  race.  The  Crows  are  not  as  intelligent 
as  the  Shoshones,  and  are  not  to  be  compared 
with  them  in  independence  and  cleanliness. 
They  are  noted  beggars  and  pilferers,  and  it 
is  the  reverse  with  Shoshones.  You  can,  with 
perfect  safety,  trust  them  with  everything  you 
possess.  I  was  not  much  acquainted  with  the 
Crows  at  this  time,  having  met  them  only  once 
before  on  the  Sweetwater  River,  and  then  only 
a  war-party. 

On  the  second  day  the  racing  commenced, 
and  the  Shoshones  ran  their  second-class  ponies 
so  as  to  let  the  Crows  win.  The  Crows  went 
wild  and  thought  they  had  invincible  ponies. 

In  the  afternoon  the  Shoshones  brought  out 
their  race-horses,  and  they  were  an  indifferent- 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       185 

looking  outfit.  The  Crows  were  positive  that 
they  had  a  sure  thing  and  they  bet  everything 
they  had,  and  on  being  bantered  by  the  Sho- 
shones  to  bet  their  race-horses,  jumped  at  the 
opportunity. 

It  was  a  sure  thing  on  the  Shoshones'  side,  for 
in  the  previous  races  they  had  gauged  the  speed 
of  the  Crow  ponies. 

The  distance  was  one  mile  over  prairie.  They 
do  not  prepare  a  smooth  track.  Such  an  idea 
never  enters  the  Indian  mind.  Young  Indian 
boys,  stripped  naked,  are  mounted  on  the 
ponies  and  led  to  the  starting  point.  There  is 
no  jockeying  such  as  white  men  indulge  in,  and 
no  foolishness  either.  The  order  is  given  to  go, 
and  the  first  horse  passing  the  winning  post 
wins  the  race.  It  makes  no  difference  what 
becomes  of  the  other  horses.  Falling  down  or 
flying  the  track  cuts  no  figure.  This  system  is 
the  same  amongst  all  Indians,  and  the  same 
rule  applies  in  foot-racing.  Ninety-nine  times 
out  of  a  hundred  the  best  horse  wins  in  an  Indian 
race. 

After  the  races  the  Crows  departed,  crest- 
fallen, but  promising  to  come  again  and  bring 
other  horses. 

It  was  now  a  busy  time  with  the  Indians, 
who  were  hard  at  work  curing  meat  and  making 


1 86       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

pemmican.  We  were  also  busy  and  caught 
many  beaver,  otter,  mink,  and  martin,  and 
killed  six  fine  black  bears.  Buffalo  were  more 
plentiful  than  usual  and  Washakie  told  us  that 
the  medicine-men  gave  us  the  credit  for  their 
abundance. 

We  had  only  one  difficulty  with  war-parties, 
and  that  of  minor  importance.  A  few  Black- 
feet  stole  some  of  our  ponies  and  drove  them 
into  the  mountains.  A  small  party  started  after 
them  one  morning,  and  by  three  o'clock  were 
back  in  the  village  with  the  ponies  and  one 
scalp. 

In  the  latter  part  of  November,  the  Indians 
having  all  the  meat  and  robes  they  required, 
we  started  on  our  return  trip  to  Green  River. 

On  the  1 5th  of  December  we  reached  Green 
River  and  sold  all  our  furs  to  traders.  We  set 
up  our  lodge  next  to  Washakie' s,  and  had  many 
interesting  conversations  with  him.  He  had 
heard  of  our  fight  at  Rocky  Point  with  the  Pah 
Utes,  and  gave  us  credit  for  having  inflicted  the 
punishment  they  merited,  for  they  were  bad 
Indians.  He  thought  that  they  would  not  soon 
forget  this  lesson. 

We  asked  Washakie  if  these  Humboldts  or 
Pah  Utes  were  not  Shoshone  Indians,  and  he 
answered  that  they  were,  but  that  they  did  not 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       187 

recognize  them  or  any  of  the  Pah  Utes  or  Utahs, 
though  they  met  sometimes  and  traded. 

We  also  asked  Washakie  if  the  Shoshone  had 
occupied  and  claimed  this  section  of  the  country, 
and  his  answer  was  that  they  claimed  the 
country  to  the  Elk  River  (Yellowstone),  and 
had  done  so  as  far  back  as  they  and  their  fathers 
could  recollect.  He  said  the  Crows,  Flatheads, 
and  Nez  Perces  hunted  upon  their  land.  In 
fact,  it  was  held  by  other  tribes  as  neutral 
ground,  claiming  the  right  to  hunt  thereon. 

I  asked  the  chief  if  he  had  any  idea  whence 
sign-language  originated,  and  he  answered  as 
many  other  old  Indians  have,  that  he  did  not 
know.  It  was  handed  down  from  father  to  son. 
Don  Alvares,  a  Chilian,  once  told  me  that  the 
Indians  who  occupied  the  base  of  the  Andes 
Mountains  used  almost  the  same  signs  as  the 
North  American  Indians. 

After  disposing  of  our  furs  we  went  south  to 
the  Arkansas.  The  next  two  years  and  a  half 
of  my  life  had  no  bearing  on  prairie  life,  and  I 
will  pass  it  over.  In  1846  the  Mexican  War  j 
commenced,  and  almost  all  the  trappers  joined 
General  Price's  forces. 

In  the  spring  of  1848  I  returned  to  St.  Louis 
promising  to  meet  my  four  companions  at 
Green  River  in  the  fall. 


1 88       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

I  went  home  and  remained  there  six  weeks. 
Everything  had  changed.  Many  of  my  school- 
mates had  married  and  settled  down  or  de- 
parted to  new  pastures.  My  people  were 
anxious  for  me  to  remain  and  settle  down, 
but  after  tasting  the  free  life  of  the  prairie  it  was 
now  too  late.  Both  of  my  parents  passed  away 
within  a  year  afterwards  and  our  family  scat- 
tered to  the  four  winds,  many  of  them  never  to 
meet  again.  ' '  Westward,  Ho ! ' '  appeared  to  take 
possession  of  every  one.  Rumor  spread  that 
gold  had  been  discovered  in  California,  which 
by  the  treaty  with  Mexico  now  belonged  to  the 
United  States.  Emigrants  were  moving  to  Ore- 
gon by  the  hundreds.  Salt  Lake  was  being 
rapidly  settled  by  the  Mormons,  and  the  whole 
country  was  assuming  a  new  aspect.  By  the 
whole  country  I  mean  California,  Oregon,  and 
Salt  Lake. 

On  the  2$th  of  July  I  took  steamboat  for 
Council  Bluffs  and  visited  old  Sarpee,  who  had 
a  trading-post  at  a  place  called  Plattsburg. 
The  old  man  was  anxious  to  have  me  remain 
and  do  the  trading  with  the  Indians  who  fre- 
quently visited  there. 

An  Oregon  emigrant  train  came  to  the  post, 
intending  to  travel  on  the  north  side  of  the 
Platte  River,  crossing  the  Missouri  at  Kanes- 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       189 

ville,  which  was  a  new  Mormon  town.  The 
captain  wanted  to  get  an  experienced  man  to 
pilot  the  train,  and  I  offered  to  take  it  as  far 
as  Green  River  and  find  him  some  one  there  to 
take  it  over  the  remainder  of  the  trip.  After 
consulting  with  his  outfit  he  offered  me  $250  and 
a  fine  five-year-old  horse,  which  I  accepted. 

The  train  consisted  of  twenty-five  wagons 
drawn  by  mules  and  oxen,  and  the  people  had 
with  them  a  number  of  milch  cows.  In  the 
party  were  fifteen  women  and  several  children. 
They  came  chiefly  from  Kentucky  and  Indiana. 
The  captain's  name  was  Reeves.  He  was  a  fine 
gentleman  of  about  fifty  years  of  age. 

We  crossed  the  ferry  without  mishap  and 
moved  steadily  along  until  we  reached  the  left 
fork  of  Platte  River,  where  we  came  in  contact 
with  a  party  of  Pawnee  Indians. 

They  wanted  to  trade  their  ponies  for  some 
of  the  blooded  Kentucky  horses  in  our  train, 
and  were  angry  when  we  refused,  saying  that 
the  Sioux  would  steal  them  all. 

They  would  have  made  a  dash  for  the  horses 
right  then  if  I  had  not  placed  well-armed  guards 
around  them. 

We  made  a  corral  of  the  wagons,  fastening 
them  together  with  chains,  and  at  night  placed 
the  stock  inside. 


190       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Four  men  went  on  guard  at  a  time,  the  cap- 
tain and  I  going  on  at  two  A.M.  We  had  not 
been  on  guard  an  hour  when  I  heard  the  hooting 
of  an  owl.  I  told  the  captain  to  get  more  men 
out  quietly. 

The  hooting  ceased,  and  when  the  Indians  had 
crawled  close  to  the  corral  they  gave  their  war- 
whoop,  thinking  they  could  stampede  the  stock. 
These  were  tied  by  halters  to  the  inside  wagon 
wheels,  and  although  the  yells  did  create  some 
disturbance  among  the  stock,  none  got  away. 

After  the  first  yell  they  made  a  rush  for  the 
corral  with  furious  war-whoops,  expecting  to 
paralyze  these  strangers.  They  were  met  by  a 
murderous  fire.  Ten  men  had  been  placed  in 
front  of  the  tents  with  orders  to  lie  low.  About 
six  Indians  made  a  dash  for  the  tents  and 
were  met  by  a  volley  from  the  shotguns,  which 
killed  four  of  them.  The  Indians  now  disap- 
peared, leaving  nine  of  their  number  on  the 
field.  I  told  the  captain  that  it  was  customary 
for  mountain  men  to  scalp  Indians.  He  laughed 
and  advised  me  to  let  it  go,  as  it  might  shock 
the  ladies.  These  ladies  showed  remarkable 
presence  of  mind  and  nerve.  They  had  rolled 
up  their  bedding,  placing  it  on  the  outside  so 
as  to  form  a  breastwork,  and  had  lain  down 
behind  it  with  the  children. 


PAWNEE      HORSE     THIEVES 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       191 

At  daylight  we  pulled  out  and  travelled 
about  fifteen  miles  and  camped  on  a  bend  of 
the  river,  making  a  corral  of  the  wagons.  The 
ladies  asked  me  if  I  thought  the  Indians  would 
try  to  revenge  themselves  on  us,  and  I  answered 
that  as  they  were  unsuccessful  in  getting  our 
outfit,  they  might  decide  to  leave  us  alone  and 
try  to  get  even  on  some  other  train.  This  very 
often  happened  and  the  fault  lay  with  emi- 
grants themselves  who  did  not  take  proper  pre- 
cautions. All  emigrants  had  been  warned  time 
and  time  again  to  be  very  careful,  but  they 
seemed  indifferent  to  their  surroundings  and 
neglected  taking  precaution.  The  result  was 
that  their  stock  was  run  off,  leaving  them  help- 
less on  the  prairie  with  their  families  and  wagons. 
Soldiers  had  to  come  to  their  assistance. 

The  Pawnees  did  not  follow  us  nor  did  we 
see  anything  more  of  them. 

We  passed  many  small  parties  of  Mormons, 
who  appeared  poor  and  miserable.  Some  of 
them  were  afoot  and  were  pulling  or  pushing 
small  hand-carts. 

We  saw  no  more  Indians  until  we  reached 
Ash  Hollow,  which  was  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  river.  This  is  a  noted  place,  where  General 
Harney  had  a  fight  with  the  Sioux.  About 
seventy -five  Cheyennes  visited  the  camp,  many 


192       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

of  whom  I  was  acquainted  with,  but  had  not 
met  them  since  1842,  when  trading  on  Cherry 
Creek.  They  asked  me  many  questions :  Where 
had  I  been?  Where  was  I  going?  Who  were 
these  people? 

The  ladies  prepared  a  feast  and  invited  the 
Indians,  who  were  led  by  White  Antelope,  a 
noted  chief  and  a  proud  and  fine-looking  war- 
rior. They  behaved  remarkably  well  for  In- 
dians, not  begging  and  only  once  offering  to 
trade  horses. 

We  moved  steadily  along,  day  after  day, 
without  obstruction  or  annoyance  of  any  kind. 
Antelope  and  grouse  were  plentiful,  and  there 
was  always  an  abundance  of  fresh  meat  in  camp. 
Qi^S5  We  reached  Fort  Hall  "October  first,  and  I 
parted  from  one  of  the  most  accofnpished  emi- 
grant outfits  that  ever  crossed  the  plains. 

I  remained  at  Fort  Hall  for  three  days  at  the 
request  of  Captain  H.  Grant,  who  was  employed 
by  the  Hudson  Bay  Company.  He  was  a  tall 
Highland  Scotchman,  and  had  been  in  the  em- 
ploy of  the  company  for  thirty  years,  and  his 
reminiscences  of  the  great  Mackenzie  and  Frazer 
rivers  would  fill  volumes  of  most  interesting 
matter. 

One  thing  struck  me  forcibly,  and  that  was 
the  manner  in  which  his  company  recruited 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       193 

their  forces.  Every  year  their  agents  in  Scot- 
land would  get  recruits  from  the  Shetland  and 
Orkney  Islands,  who  would  sign  agreements  to 
serve  the  company  for  from  three  to  five  years 
at  twenty-five  pounds  a  year  and  to  live  on 
what  the  country  produced. 

On  their  arrival  in  Canada  the  men  were  in- 
duced to  take  upon  themselves  a  wife,  an  Indian 
woman.  Calico  in  those  days  was  fifty  cents  a 
yard,  other  things  in  proportion,  and  at  the  end 
of  their  term  of  service  they  were  overwhelm- 
ingly in  debt  to  the  company.  They  were  then 
kept  in  service  to  work  out  this  indebtedness. 
Mexican  peons  and  Hudson  Bay  employees  were 
in  much  the  same  condition. 

The  Northwestern  Fur  Company  differed 
very  little  from  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  in 
the  treatment  of  its  employees.  These  com- 
panies did  not  like  to  be  interfered  with  in 
collecting  furs  and  robes  from  the  Indians,  and 
endeavored  to  have  a  law  passed  making  it  a 
felony  for  any  except  themselves  to  do  this 
trading;  also  to  compel  all  trappers  to  be  in 
their  employ. 

Mountain  men  had  more  influence  with  the 
Indians  than  they,  and  they  were  aware  of  it, 
and  from  this  sprang  the  feeling  of  antagonism 
which  I  retain  to  this  day. 


CHAPTER  XX 

Fort  Bridger.  "Doby  Men."  California  Gold.  We  Decide  to 
Go  to  the  Mines.  Fate  of  Bill  Williams.  Hunting  and 
Trapping  in  the  Big  Horns.  "Humpy"  a  War-Party  Leader. 
We  Give  the  Easterners  a  Lesson  in  Indian  Fighting. 
Washakie  Identifies  the  Scalps  as  Pend  Oreilles. 

ON  the  road  to  Fort  Bridger  I  passed  two 
trains  bound  for  Oregon,  which  contained 
many  women  and  children,  and  one  Mormon 
outfit. 

There  were  several  Mormons  at  the  Fort  and 
a  visible  change  had  taken  place.  We  were  all 
aware  that  in  a  very  few  years  a  great  emigra- 
tion would  take  place,  but  we  had  not  looked 
for  the  Mormons  migrating  to  Salt  Lake. 

In  every  direction  rumors  were  afloat  of 
large  gold  discoveries  in  California,  and  all  the 
trappers  were  discussing  the  possibility  of  mak- 
ing fortunes. 

Two  days  before  I  reached  Bridger  a  war- 
party  of  Indians  had  run  off  thirty  horses  be- 
longing to  the  men  at  the  Fort,  who  followed 

194 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       195 

them  for  a  day  without  success.  They  were  a 
poor  lot  of  men,  who  eked  out  an  existence  by 
just  hanging  around  trading-posts.  We  trap- 
pers called  them  "doby  men." 

I  continued  on  to  Brown's  Hole  rendezvous 
and  found  there  my  four  partners,  as  well  as 
fifteen  of  our  old  companions. 

The  next  day  a  couple  of  wagons  arrived  from 
Weston,  Missouri,  laden  with  goods  for  trading 
purposes.  They  brought  news  of  great  excite- 
ment throughout  the  East  over  the  California 
gold  discoveries;  and  that  a  great  many  people 
were  taking  ship,  some  going  around  Cape  Horn 
and  others  by  the  Panama  route.  The  news 
created  much  excitement  at  the  rendezvous,  as 
the  majority  had  not  heard  of  it  before.  A 
council  was  held  by  the  trappers  on  the  advis- 
ability of  starting  at  once  for  California,  taking 
the  southern  trail.  Our  party  decided  to  wait 
until  spring  and  take  the  Humboldt  trail,  strik- 
ing middle  California.  We  believed  that  if  any 
gold  were  there,  it  would  probably  be  in  that 
section  of  the  country. 

Among  the  arrivals  were  three  gentlemen, 
two  from  St.  Louis  and  one  from  Kentucky, 
who  were  anxious  to  have  a  hunt  in  the  Big 
Horn  Mountains.  They  had  heard  and  read  a 
great  deal  about  that  romantic  country,  and  of 


196       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

the  wild  and  free  life  of  the  American  trapper 
and  mountaineer,  and  they  were  desirous  of 
investigating  in  person  with  a  view  of  publish- 
ing an  account  of  their  trip. 

We  warned  them  that  it  was  a  dangerous 
country  at  all  seasons  of  the  year,  but  that  ten 
trappers  would  see  them  through.  They  were 
eager  to  go  and  offered  to  engage  ten  trappers 
for  two  months,  furnish  the  outfit,  and  pay  each 
trapper  $100  a  month.  Besides  this,  the  trap- 
pers could  take  their  traps  and  retain  all  furs 
caught,  as  they  were  anxious  to  see  in  what 
manner  beaver  and  otter  were  caught. 

While  these  gentlemen  were  making  their 
offer,  Perkins  arrived  from  Las  Vegas,  bringing 
a  letter  to  me  from  Williams,  who  wanted  me  to 
come  there  and  go  into  partnership  with  him  in 
trading.  I  should  certainly  have  gone  had  I 
not  decided  on  the  California  trip.  I  never  saw 
Williams  again.  A  few  years  afterwards  the 
Southern  Utes  killed  him  by  mistake  in  Apache 
Pass.  They  were  great  friends  of  old  Bill,  and 
they  packed  him  to  their  village  and  gave  him 
a  chief's  burial,  mourning  for  him  as  for  one 
of  their  own.  The  Utes  themselves  told  me 
this. 

Perkins  and  I  accepted  the  offer  of  these 
eastern  men  and  made  up  a  party  of  ten  trap- 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       197 

pers.  There  were  several  Indians  at  the  ren- 
dezvous who  had  ponies  for  trade,  and  our  out- 
fit was  soon  furnished.  The  trip  was  a  most 
enjoyable  one  for  all  concerned,  game  of  every 
description  was  abundant,  and  the  easterners 
became  good  hunters.  They  were  highly  pleased 
at  their  success  and  paid  each  man  double  what 
they  had  agreed  to. 

The  Shoshones  discovered  our  camp  on  Nine 
Blackfeet  Sleep  Creek,  so  called  because  nine 
Blackfeet  Indians  were  caught  asleep  by  the 
Shoshones,  who  forced  them  to  continue  their 
sleep  indefinitely. 

The  day  the  Shoshones  found  us,  "Silver 
Tip"  was  on  duty  as  picket.  He  could  almost 
scent  an  Indian  a  mile  off,  and  his  eyes  were  as 
keen  and  penetrating  as  an  eagle's.  He  was 
never  known  to  give  a  false  alarm.  We  were 
bear  hunting  at  the  time,  and  we  saw  his  signal 
and  hurried  to  camp.  He  said  that  Indians 
were  not  far  off,  as  a  few  buffalo  had  been 
raised  and  antelope  were  scampering  in  every 
direction.  These  signs  were  significant  to  moun- 
tain men,  though,  of  course,  the  game  might 
have  been  raised  by  friendly  Indians.  The 
stock  was  all  corralled  and  everything  prepared 
for  the  reception  of  a  war-party.  At  sunset 
fifteen  Indians  were  seen  advancing,  one  riding 


198      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

in  advance  at  full  speed,  firing  a  rifle,  which 
meant  "friends." 

He  came  boldly  into  camp  and  we  soon  recog- 
nized him  as  "  Humpy,"  a  most  remarkable 
Indian  of  about  twenty -five  years  of  age.  His 
height  was  only  five  feet  two  inches,  and  he 
had  a  large  lump  on  his  shoulders.  He  was 
a  leader  of  war-parties,  fearless  and  cautious, 
with  many  "coups"  to  his  credit.  These  In- 
dians had  been  after  a  war-party  of  Cheyennes 
who  had  stolen  some  Shoshone  ponies.  Over- 
taking them  on  the  North  Platte  River  they 
recovered  the  ponies. 

They  had  heard  shots  from  our  party  and 
could  not  understand  who  could  be  in  that 
country  with  such  guns,  the  report  being  much 
louder  than  theirs.  They  scouted  and  discov- 
ered boot-tracks,  which  mystified  them  even 
more.  Finally  they  discovered  a  trapper's 
moccasin  track  and  they  no  longer  hesitated  in 
approaching  camp.  We  invited  them  to  sup- 
per and  conversed  until  past  midnight,  inter- 
preting every  word  to  the  three  eastern  men. 
They  took  a  keen  interest  in  the  conversation, 
and  said  they  had  not  expected  such  intelligence 
from  wild  Indians.  We  told  these  gentlemen 
that  the  Shoshones  ranked  for  acumen  with  the 
most  advanced  Indians  in  America. 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       199 

" Humpy"  told  us  that  Washakie's  village 
was  on  a  creek  called  Graybull,  but  would  soon 
move  to  the  south  fork  of  Stinking  Water,  and 
he  advised  us  to  go  there  on  account  of  the 
many  war -parties  in  the  country.  This  we  con- 
cluded to  do,  and  it  was  while  en  route  that  we 
gave  the  gentlemen  a  practical  illustration  of 
Indian  warfare. 

We  were  camped  on  Shell  Creek,  and  Docket, 
who  had  been  out  scouting,  reported  having 
seen  smoke,  presumably  from  an  Indian  camp. 
The  next  day,  about  two  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, "Silver  Tip"  signalled  "Indians."  The 
stock  was  immediately  corralled,  and  "Silver 
Tip"  reported  having  seen  a  small  band  of 
Indians,  some  on  horseback,  travelling  direct 
towards  camp,  though  he  was  certain  they  had 
not  discovered  us  as  yet.  The  men  put  on  all 
arms,  which,  in  fact,  were  seldom  off,  and  the 
easterners  began  to  get  a  little  uneasy,  asking 
if  these  were  hostile  Indians.  We  answered 
that  it  was  a  sure  thing  that  such  a  party  were 
after  scalps  or  horses,  not  being  particular 
which. 

We  hid  in  a  thicket  to  observe  their  move- 
ments, and  did  not  have  long  to  wait  before 
they  came  in  sight  on  a  rise  about  three  hundred 
yards  away. 


200       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

They  could  not  see  camp  from  that  side, 
but  they  had  discovered  our  horse  tracks. 
They  approached  very  carefully  and  looked 
over,  but  could  discover  nothing.  We  counted 
nine  on  horseback  and  ten  on  foot.  The 
Indians  now  consulted  for  some  time  and 
then  the  horsemen  made  a  detour,  looking 
closely  for  tracks.  After  crossing  the  creek 
they  saw  our  lodge,  and  at  once  returned  to  the 
footmen  on  the  rise.  Another  consultation  was 
held,  its  object  most  likely  to  estimate  how 
many  men  would  be  there  with  only  one  lodge. 
"Must  be  a  trappers'  lodge." 

At  all  events,  after  some  time  passed,  the 
footmen  divided,  five  going  above  camp  and 
five  below.  The  nature  of  this  movement  was 
well  understood  by  the  trappers,  for  the  Indians 
intended  to  crawl  through  the  timber  and  under- 
brush to  the  lodge  and  find  out  who  was  there. 

Should  they  find  no  one  they  would  conceal 
themselves  until  the  return  of  the  occupants 
and  take  them  by  surprise;  then  kill,  scalp, 
and  plunder.  These  are  Indian  tactics;  but 
this  time  these  red  men  were  circumvented. 

Three  men  were  sent  up  the  creek  to  conceal 
themselves  about  seventy-five  yards  from  camp, 
and  three  below.  They  had  not  long  to  wait. 
The  Indians  approached  in  a  careless  manner 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       201 

without  suspicion.  Above  camp  the  trappers 
let  the  Indians  get  within  ten  feet,  when  they 
jumped  out,  pistols  in  hand.  Before  the  In- 
dians realized  what  was  happening  they  were 
dead. 

A  moment  afterwards  a  scattering  fire  was 
heard  below  camp,  and  two  Indians  were  seen 
running  towards  their  mounted  companions  on 
the  ridge. 

The  trappers  rushed  to  the  corral  and 
mounted,  bidding  the  eastern  men  do  likewise 
and  see  an  Indian  fight,  as  it  might  be  their 
only  chance.  The  Indians  on  the  ridge  were 
somewhat  mystified,  and  remained  there  until 
we  were  out  of  the  timber.  At  the  sight  of  us 
they  beat  a  hasty  retreat,  but  it  was  too  late. 
In  order  to  escape  they  should  have  started  as 
soon  as  they  heard  the  shots.  Their  horses 
were  indifferent  ones,  while  ours  were  the  very 
pick  of  the  plains,  and  could  not  be  excelled 
in  any  country  for  either  endurance  or  speed. 
The  two  footmen  mounted  behind  the  horsemen. 

When  we  reached  the  ridge  the  Indians  were 
about  four  hundred  yards  away  and  going  for 
' '  all  that  was  out, ' '  as  * '  Silver  Tip ' '  said.  They 
were  making  for  the  Big  Horn  River,  about 
three  quarters  of  a  mile  distant. 

Before  they  had  covered  half  the  distance  we 


202       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

were  amongst  them,  passing  in  single  file.  By 
the  time  the  last  trapper  passed  they  were  all 
on  their  way  to  their  happy  hunting-grounds. 
As  the  last  Indian  fell  the  three  easterners  rode 
up,  greatly  surprised  at  the  sudden  termination 
of  the  fight.  They  had  expected  to  see  the 
Indians  make  some  resistance  and  then  they 
would  have  taken  a  hand. 

"But  you  trappers  do  not  give  a  person  time 
to  do  a  thing  except  follow." 

They  had  heard  just  such  fights  described, 
but  could  not  believe  it  possible. 

We  collected  all  the  plunder  the  Indians  had, 
besides  scalping  them,  to  the  amusement  of  the 
gentlemen.  We  asked  them  to  lift  some  of  the 
hair,  but  could  not  prevail  on  them  to  do  so; 
although  after  we  had  the  scalps  stretched  on 
hoops  and  dried,  they  took  half  a  dozen  to 
show  to  their  friends  in  the  east. 

That  night  they  asked  why  the  Indians  had 
not  used  the  bows  and  arrows  which  they  carried 
in  their  hands.  We  answered  that  the  Indians 
had  their  minds  set  on  getting  to  the  timber, 
and  they  did  not  know  the  quality  of  the 
men  who  were  after  them.  We  rode  passing 
them  on  their  right,  because  they  could  not  use 
their  bows  and  arrows  on  that  side  without 
turning  around. 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       203 

They  did  not  know  which  side  we  would  come 
up  on,  for  we  did  not  fire  a  shot  until  within  ten 
feet,  then  passing  in  single  file  we  delivered 
shots  as  we  passed.  They  had  no  time  to  turn, 
as  we  passed  like  a  whirlwind.  When  the  last 
man  passed  the  Indians  were  most  of  them  dead. 

Had  we  passed  them  on  the  left  side  some  of 
us  might  have  been  hurt,  though  that  is  very 
doubtful,  as  men  and  horses  alike  were  quick 
and  active.  And  another  thing,  the  closer  you 
are  to  an  Indian  the  less  danger  there  is  of  get- 
ting hurt.  You  confuse  him  and  he  does  not 
seem  able  to  collect  his  thoughts. 

These  Indians  were  strange  to  us,  but  when 
shown  the  scalps  Washakie  told  us  that  they 
were  Pend  Oreilles. 

We  spent  a  very  pleasant  time  at  the  Shoshone 
village,  especially  the  first  evening,  when  we 
recounted  to  Washakie  how  we  had  trapped  the 
Indians.  He  was  highly  pleased  and  said  ' '  Old 
trappers  are  wolves,"  meaning  in  Indian  way  of 
speech,  hard  to  take  in  or  always  on  the  alert. 
He  thought  the  Pend  Oreilles  were  fools  to 
think  that  there  were  no  trappers  at  the  lodge. 

We  gave  the  rest  of  the  scalps  to  the  Sho- 
shones,  and  the  young  folks  had  a  merry  scalp 
dance,  which  kept  up  until  past  midnight. 

went  on  buffalo  hunts,  on  bear  hunts, 


204       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

and,  in  fact,  gave  our  employers  an  opportunity 
to  try  their  hand  on  every  variety  of  game  to 
be  found  in  that  section,  much  to  their  satis- 
faction. 

When  we  reached  Green  River  and  bade  our 
three  gentlemen  adieu,  we  were  all  well  satisfied 
with  the  trip. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

Bound  for  California.  Furs  and  Gold.  On  the  Old  Camp 
Ground.  An  Undisturbed  Grave.  The  Indians  Hold  Aloof. 
Crossing  the  Range.  Sacramento.  We  Trappers  Turn 
Miners,  and  Stake  our  Claims.  Barbarous  Murder. 

WE  moved  to  Henry's  Fork  of  Green  River, 
intending  to  complete  preparations  for 
our  California  trip  at  this  place.     Many  moun- 
tain men  had  already  congregated  there. 

A  fearful  storm  set  in  and  lasted  three  weeks. 
Our  whole  time  was  taken  up  in  looking  after 
stock,  so  as  to  keep  them  up  in  flesh.  We  cut 
the  bark  of  young  cottonwoods,  which  is  very 
nutritious  and  will  keep  stock  in  good  shape  for 
a  short  time.  We  also  kept  a  close  guard  both 
night  and  day,  for  we  knew  that  war-parties 
were  about.  Fortune  favored  us,  as  we  were  not 
visited  by  any  horse-stealing  parties  while  we 
remained  in  this  camp.  Parties  on  Black  and 
Ham  Forks  of  Green  River  did  not  come  off  so 
well,  but  lost  several  ponies  through  negligence 
and  were  constantly  bothered  by  the  Indians. 

205 


206       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Several  of  the  men  at  this  rendezvous  had 
relations  in  Oregon  and  decided  to  go  that  way, 
visit  them,  and  pass  on  to  California.  Others 
decided  to  take  the  southern  route,  passing 
through  Utah.  Our  party  selected  the  middle 
route,  via  Humboldt  River  and  through  the 
Carson  Valley. 

Some  of  the  men  had  heard  of  our  difficulty 
with  the  Pah  Utes  at  Rocky  Point,  and  thought 
that  we  might  come  in  contact  with  our  former 
antagonists.  "Yes,"  I  said;  ''but  they  have 
not  forgotten  the  reception  we  gave  them,  and 
may  conclude  to  give  us  a  wide  berth."  We 
thought  that  nine  trappers  were  sufficient  for 
those  Indians.  We  had  another  motive  in 
going  by  this  route,  namely,  to  see  if  Crawford's 
grave  had  been  molested.  If  so,  those  Pah 
Utes  would  better  keep  a  long  distance  from  us, 
as  in  that  case  a  few  more  of  them  would  be 
likely  to  suffer. 

a  We  intended  to  start  on  the  1 5th  of  February, 
travel  by  easy  stages,  and  collect  furs.  We  had 
been  told  that  we  could  find  a  good  market  in 
San  Francisco.  We  did  not  rely  altogether  on 
being  able  to  pick  up  gold  on  the  top  of  the 
ground.  Newspapers  telling  of  fabulous  finds 
had  been  brought  out  by  the  fur-buyers.  The 
news  set  half  of  the  men  wild,  but  for  all  that 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains      207 

they  did  not  credit  the  report  in  the  papers. 
They  reasoned  that  if  gold  could  be  found  in 
such  quantities,  the  Spaniards  would  have  over- 
run that  country  centuries  ago. 

Parties  we  came  in  contact  with  urged  us  to 
throw  our  traps  in  the  creek  and  go  with  them, 
declaring  that  by  the  time  we  reached  California 
with  our  furs  they,  simply  by  looking  for  it, 
would  have  gold  enough  to  buy  our  furs,  horses, 
and  everything  we  had. 

We  went  to  the  trading-post  and  bought 
$250  worth  of  trinkets  to  trade  with  Carson 
Indians,  and  on  the  day  set,  packed  up,  intend- 
ing to  strike  Bear  River  and  collect  furs.  We 
reached  there  without  any  mishap  and  trapped 
down  to  the  mouth  of  Malade  River,  securing 
many  furs.  At  Malade  River  we  were  joined 
by  several  young  Mormons,  who  camped  with 
us  that  night.  They  were  on  their  way  to 
California,  excited,  as  many  others,  by  the 
gold  reports.  Next  morning  they  were  off  by 
day-light. 

We  made  quite  a  catch  of  furs  here  in  three 
days,  crossed  Goose  Creek  range,  trapped  that 
stream,  Raft  River,  and  other  creeks,  and  did 
remarkably  well.  Having  as  yet  come  across 
no  Indians,  we  proceeded  to  the  head  of  Hum- 
boldt  River.  A  few  Indians  showed  themselves, 


208       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

but  kept  clear  of  us.  We  continued  down  to 
Rocky  Point  and  camped  on  our  old  ground. 
We  examined  Crawford's  grave  and  found  it 
had  not  been  disturbed. 

The  Indians  hovered  around  us,  but  did  not 
approach.  It  was  manifest  they  had  not  for- 
gotten the  merited  chastisement  we  had  ad- 
ministered or  they  would  have  paid  us  a  visit. 
We  did  not  set  any  traps,  but  pulled  out  early 
the  next  morning  and  made  some  thirty  miles. 
Here  we  camped  and  set  our  traps  and  made  a 
good  catch.  As  soon  as  the  hides  were  off  we 
packed  up,  and  made  twenty  miles  over  the 
same  old  route.  We  saw  a  few  Indians  at  a 
distance,  but  whether  they  were  following  us 
or  belonged  to  some  other  village,  we  did  not 
know.  At  all  events,  we  did  not  give  them  an 
opportunity  to  raid  us  or  our  stock.  We  took 
extraordinary  precautions,  catching  only  a  few 
furs  close  to  camp.  The  next  morning  we  were 
off  early  and  reached  Humboldt  Lake,  but 
caught  no  beaver.  The  next  day  we  reached 
the  lower  end  of  the  lake  and  spent  two  days 
stretching  and  drying  furs.  Here  some  more 
Mormons  arrived  and  camped  with  us  over 
night. 

Here  is  the  starting  point  of  the  two  routes 
across  the  Great  American  Desert,  one  leading  to 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains      209 

Truckee  and  another  to  Carson.  We  advised  the 
Mormons  to  take  the  latter,  which  they  did  the 
next  morning. 

The  next  day  we  crossed,  getting  to  Carson 
River  early,  and  found  our  friends  the  Mormons 
in  a  sorry  plight.  It  had  been  exceedingly 
warm  the  day  they  crossed  the  desert.  As  a 
result  of  their  having  urged  their  horses  beyond 
endurance,  they  had  to  lay  up  for  a  week  to 
recruit  their  stock.  Hundreds  suffered  the  same 
way  when  crossing  this  desert  by  not  exercising 
proper  judgment.  We  traded  with  our  former 
friendly  Indians,  who  were  really  glad  to  see  us. 
They  had  considerable  fur,  all  of  which  we  got, 
besides  collecting  much  ourselves. 

The  snow  being  exceedingly  deep  in  the 
Sierras  we  camped  at  the  base.  Here  some  of 
the  Mormons  returned,  saying  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  cross  the  mountains  at  this  time. 
They  had  an  Indian  with  them  as  guide.  We 
engaged  this  same  Indian  and  another  volun- 
teered to  go  also.  As  I  stated  before,  we  had 
treated  those  Indians  with  the  greatest  kind- 
ness and  they  were  ready  to  do  anything  for  us, 
so  we  accepted  this  last  Indian's  offer. 

These  Indians  guided  us  through  the  night 
as  easily  as  by  daylight,  for  they  had  crossed 
the  mountains  many  times.  We  started  at 


2io      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  with  forty -five  head 
of  stock,  the  Indians  having  two.  On  this 
route  there  are  two  high  divides.  The  Indians 
thought  we  could  cross  the  first  by  sun-up  and 
get  cottonwood  bark  for  the  horses. 

We  strung  out  our  horses  single  file,  the  In- 
dians in  advance.  When  we  first  struck  snow 
it  was  not  very  deep,  and  consequently  there 
was  considerable  floundering.  As  the  snow 
deepened  travel  became  easier.  The  deeper  the 
snow  the  more  compact  it  is.  At  daylight  we 
came  to  a  creek  with  the  snow  eight  feet  deep. 
Before  unpacking  we  tramped  upon  the  snow 
to  make  it  more  solid.  We  cut  down  a  lot  of 
fir  limbs,  spread  them  upon  the  snow,  and  un- 
packed. The  horses  seemed  to  have  human 
intelligence  and  would  not  leave  the  place  we 
had  tramped  for  them.  Leaving  two  men  to 
prepare  breakfast,  the  remainder  got  large  quan- 
tities of  young  cottonwood  limbs,  which  the 
horses,  being  very  hungry,  relished  greatly. 

After  breakfast  all  but  one  man  rolled  up  in 
blankets  and  took  a  good  six-hour  slumber. 
This  refreshed  us  greatly  and  we  awoke  as 
hungry  as  wolves.  A  meal  fit  for  the  gods  was 
soon  prepared,  and  we  spent  the  afternoon  in 
prospecting  for  a  place  to  cross  the  creek.  The 
water  had  made  a  tunnel  under  the  snow,  and 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       211 

it  was  some  time  before  we  could  find  a  place  to 
bridge.  We  cut  fir  limbs,  laying  them  thick 
enough  to  cross  on  without  stepping  on  the 
snow.  The  reader  can  imagine  it  would  be  no 
easy  trick  to  extricate  a  horse  should  he  fall 
through  eight  feet  of  snow  into  the  creek  below. 
We  did  not  intend  to  take  any  chances,  but 
piled  the  limbs  thickly  across  the  dangerous 
place. 

It  must  have  been  80°  in  the  shade.  The 
snow  was  settling  rapidly,  and  the  horses 
trampling  around  kept  it  comparatively  solid. 
They  were  well  supplied  with  bark,  so  they  did 
not  suffer  for  lack  of  food.  The  Indians  thought 
we  could  make  the  west  side  of  the  main  divide 
by  daylight  and  would  find  grass.  On  the 
south  side  of  the  ridge  we  made  some  hoops  and 
stretched  rawhide  over  them,  using  them  as 
snow-shoes.  At  two-thirty  in  the  afternoon, 
when  the  snow  was  at  its  softest,  Russell  and 
"Scotty,"  accompanied  by  the  Indians,  donned 
temporary  snow-shoes  and  took  the  supposed 
trail,  going  some  three  miles.  This  trail  assisted 
us  in  the  fore  part  of  the  night.  Russell  and 
"Scotty"  said  these  Indians  could  excel  them 
on  snow-shoes,  for  the  trappers  were  fagged  out 
on  their  return  to  camp. 

We  packed  up  about  nine  o'clock,  crossed  the 


212       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

bridge,  carefully  leading  each  animal  over,  then 
mounted,  stringing  them  out  in  single  file.  You 
could  not  get  a  horse  to  step  one  inch  out  of  the 
trail.  They  would  step  into  each  other's  foot- 
tracks.  We  experienced  no  difficulty  en  route. 
Each  mount  would  lead  an  animal,  a  certain 
number  of  loose  ones  following,  they  in  turn  be- 
ing followed  by  a  mount.  One  hour  before  day- 
light we  crossed  the  divide,  made  good  time, 
and  reached  the  place  designated  by  the  Indians, 
and  we  found  everything  just  as  described. 
We  camped  on  a  bare  spot,  cooked  and  feasted; 
the  horses  nibbling  green  grass  much  to  their 
delight.  Grass  grows  under  the  snow  in  this 
region. 

According  to  our  reckoning  this  was  the  third 
day  of  July.  As  far  as  the  snow  was  concerned 
our  difficulties  were  over,  though  we  still  had 
some  snow  to  cross.  The  Indians  advised  us  to 
pack  up  at  midnight,  while  the  snow  was  the 
hardest,  and  we  would  be  out  of  it  by  daylight. 
At  eleven  o'clock  the  next  day  we  reached 
Hangtown. 

Some  miners — Americans  and  Mexicans — 
were  located  on  the  creek.  Of  the  Americans 
all  but  two  had  come  to  California  by  the 
Panama  route.  The  two  mentioned  were  trap- 
pers who  had  come  with  Fremont.  Thousands 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       213 

must  have  come  by  water  in  1848,  as  these 
miners  spoke  of  a  town  on  Sacramento  River 
called  Georgetown  where  considerable  mining 
was  going  on. 

A  small  town  was  starting  up  here  with  one 
small  store.  After  staying  here  three  days  we 
learned  how  to  mine  and  save  gold  by  a  rocker 
and  a  pan.  The  dirt  is  stripped  away  to  a 
depth  of  three  or  four  feet,  then  the  gold  is 
panned  out  from  what  they  call  the  pay  dirt. 
This  is  quite  different  from  picking  up  gold  on 
top  of  the  ground. 

On  the  gth  of  July  we  arrived  at  Sacramento, 
a  small  town  then,  but  full  of  life.  We  put  up 
our  lodge  outside  of  town  and  had  many  visi- 
tors; for,  being  dressed  in  fringed  buckskin,  a 
custom  among  free  trappers,  we  were  quite  a 
curiosity. 

Three  of  our  men  could  speak  Spanish,  and 
the  Mexicans  gave  them  all  the  news  about  the 
mines.  They  claimed  that  the  best  mining  sec- 
tion was  towards  the  north,  on  the  Yuba.  We 
remained  here  ten  days,  and  in  the  meantime 
disposed  of  our  furs  to  a  Mexican  Don,  who 
paid  us  our  price. 

After  we  had  settled  everything  we  bought 
picks,  pans,  rockers,  crevice  spoons,  rubber 
boots,  slickers,  and  flannel  overshirts.  We 


214       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

were  transformed  from  trappers  into  miners. 
Packing  up  our  mining  outfit  we  started  north, 
not  knowing  whither  we  were  going  and  not 
caring.  One  thing  was  certain,  we  had  set  out 
to  see  some  mining.  None  of  us  relished  pick 
and  shovel  work,  having  never  used  these  im- 
plements except  to  dig  a  few  rifle-pits.  How- 
ever, we  went  cheerfully  along,  visiting  several 
places  where  mining  was  in  progress.  We  set 
up  our  lodges,  taking  turn  about  looking  after 
the  stock  and  cooking,  the  others  staking  off 
mining  claims.  We  continued  thus  until  the 
spring  of  1853  with  indifferent  success.  I  saw 
as  many  men  out  of  funds  in  California  in  those 
days  as  I  have  seen  anywhere,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  work  was  plentiful.  But  the  country 
was  overrun  with  gamblers  and  rounders,  gen- 
erally hard  characters.  Many  of  them  died 
with  their  boots  on,  while  many  who  merited 
the  same  fate  escaped. 

At  this  time  we  were  at  Little  York,  and 
some  Of  the  miners  who  had  interests  in  the 
claims  had  gone  to  prospect  some  other  creeks, 
promising  to  be  back  in  a  few  days.  They  had 
left  their  clothing,  and  some  of  them  consider- 
able money.  Their  friends  became  uneasy  at 
their  long-continued  absence,  when  news  was 
brought  to  town  that  Lawyer  Lewis  had  been 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains      215 

horribly  butchered  at  Auburn.  Lewis  had  his 
tent  pitched  outside  the  village,  not  far  from 
an  Indian  camp.  The  morning  following  the 
murder  the  Indians  disappeared. 

Lewis  was  a  great  favorite  with  the  miners, 
and  when  his  fate  became  known  a  council  was 
held  by  the  miners  and  business  men,  who  de- 
cided the  Indians  guilty. 

There  were  very  few  arms  among  the  miners. 
Those  who  had  crossed  the  plains  had  rifles,  but 
they  had  made  crowbars  of  them. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

Miners  Killed  by  Indians.  A  Gloomy  Outlook.  The  "Moun- 
taineer Miners."  Rifle  Barrels  for  Crowbars.  Our  Circus 
Entry  into  Nevada  City.  A  Council  of  War.  Perkins 
Advises  Vigorous  Action.  We  Take  the  Trail.  More 
Indian  Outrages.  We  Overtake  the  Hostiles.  An  Attack 
and  a  Stubborn  Defence.  A  Brave  Chief.  Good  Work  of 
the  Sharps  Rifle.  ' '  Silver  Tip ' '  Has  his  Ear  Split  and  Russell 
Gets  a  Bullet  through  his  Hat.  The  Indians  Utterly  Routed 
and  Many  Killed.  White  Men's  Scalps  to  Teach  a  Lesson. 
A  Big  Lot  of  Plunder.  The  Trappers  are  Made  to  Blush. 
We  Have  a  Triumphal  Ovation  and  are  Hailed  as  Aven- 
gers. Our  Fame  Spreads. 

THE  news  brought  in  of  miners  being  found 
stripped,  scalped,  and  otherwise  muti- 
lated created  almost  a  panic  among  the  pros- 
pectors. These  generally  travelled  either  alone 
or  with  one  or  two  companions,  and  seldom 
carried  arms  to  defend  themselves  with. 

A  general  rumor  was  afloat  that  the  Indians 
from  the  Colorado  River  west,  and  from  the 
Mexican  line  to  the  British-American  border, 
had  united  against  all  the  white  men. 

News  came  that  Governor  Joe  Lane  of  Oregon 
216 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains      217 

was  fighting  Indians  on  Rogue  River  and  that 
the  Indians  in  the  Walla  Walla  country  had 
declared  war.  Everything  looked  gloomy  and 
desperate  to  the  many  miners,  and  daily  coun- 
cils were  held,  especially  by  the  business  men. 

Our  outfit  was  almost  everywhere  known 
among  the  miners  as  the  "Mountaineer  Miners." 
We  had  retained  all  our  arms  and  horses  and 
had  each  two  suits  of  buckskins,  one  as  a  Sunday 
suit,  so  Noble  said. 

Six  of  us  had  traded  our  Hawkins  rifles  for 
Sharps  rifles,  brought  in  by  emigrants.  The 
barrels  of  the  Hawkins  rifles  made  good  substi- 
tutes for  crowbars.  These  were  the  first  Sharps 
rifles  we  had  seen  and  we  found  them  most 
effective  weapons,  our  only  criticism  being  that 
the  triggers  pulled  too  hard.  We  had  a  gun- 
smith resight  them  and  fix  the  triggers,  and 
securing  a  lot  of  tape  caps  and  ammunition, 
we  practised  for  several  days.  They  were 
equal  in  accuracy  to  our  old  rifles  and  far  su- 
perior in  effectiveness. 

A  dispatch  was  received  from  the  business 
men  of  Nevada  City  asking  us  to  come  there  at 
once  and  attend  a  council  relative  to  the  Indian 
problem.  We  dressed  in  our  buckskins  and 
mounted  our  war-horses,  as  Docket  insisted  on 
calling  them.  "Scotty"  was  left  to  take  care 


218       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

of  camp.  At  three  in  the  afternoon  we  reached 
Nevada  City  and  found  the  place  full  of  miners. 
A  person  looking  on  as  we  rode  down  the  street 
would  have  imagined  a  circus  in  town.  Every 
man,  woman,  and  child  in  the  town  rushed  out 
of  the  houses,  and  many  of  them  looked  as  if 
they  thought  we  had  come  to  capture  the  city. 

We  rode  to  the  California  Hotel,  where  we 
were  met  by  the  leading  business  men  and  city 
officials.  Here  we  dismounted  and  our  horses 
were  put  in  the  stable,  with  orders  to  take  the 
best  of  care  of  them.  We  were  then  escorted  to 
the  reception  room,  where  a  tempting  repast 
awaited  us. 

After  feasting  to  our  hearts'  content  we  ad- 
vised the  citizens  to  hold  council  at  once.  Mr. 
A.  L.  Graham,  a  banker,  presided,  and  he  said 
that  the  object  of  the  council  was  to  consider 
the  ways  and  means  of  putting  a  stop  to  the 
slaughtering  of  prospectors  and  miners  by  the 
Indians.  He  read  a  paper  recounting  the  num- 
ber of  miners  who  had  been  found  scalped  and 
otherwise  mutilated,  and  dwelt  upon  the  bar- 
barous manner  in  which  Lawyer  Lewis  had  been 
treated.  When  through  with  the  paper,  he 
called  the  attention  of  the  assemblage  to  our 
party,  remarking  that  these  mountaineers  were 
the  ones  to  take  a  leading  part  in  deciding  what 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       219 

to  do  in  the  disposition  of  the  Indians.  All 
were  satisfied  that  these  murders  had  been  com- 
mitted by  the  Indians. 

We  were  called  upon  to  address  the  meeting. 
As  Perkins  was  the  oldest  we  selected  him  to  do 
the  talking.  In  a  few  terse  remarks  he  in- 
formed the  meeting  that  he  thought  there  should 
be  no  time  wasted  in  following  these  Auburn 
Indians,  as  this  tribe  had  done  most  of  the  kill- 
ing. To  his  question  as  to  how  many  lodges 
there  were  in  the  Auburn  village,  he  was  an- 
swered sixty.  Perkins  thought  this  signified 
from  one  hundred  and  twenty  to  one  hundred 
and  forty  warriors.  He  also  thought  that  fifty 
men  armed  with  rifles  would  be  sufficient  to 
punish  the  Indians. 

A  runner  was  dispatched  to  Grass  Valley, 
three  miles  distant,  and  one  to  Auburn,  calling 
for  fifty  volunteers  who  had  rifles  to  meet  at 
Grass  Valley  that  evening.  There  were  but 
twelve  men  in  Nevada  City  who  owned  rifles, 
although  several  had  pistols.  Horses  were 
plenty,  but  there  was  a  scarcity  of  saddles, 
blankets  being  used  as  a  substitute. 

We  deposited  most  of  our  funds  with  Wells 
Fargo  Company's  bank.  Up  to  this  time  we 
had  always  packed  our  funds,  having  little  con- 
fidence in  banks.  Supper  was  furnished  at  the 


220      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

city's  expense,  and  we  were  not  allowed  to 
pay  for  anything.  Immediately  after  supper  we 
mounted  and  proceeded  to  Grass  Valley,  where 
fifteen  men  had  already  assembled.  By  eight 
o'clock  we  mustered  sixty -three  mounted  and 
fairly  well-armed  men. 

Perkins  was  elected  captain  and,  by  order 
of  that  dare-devil  Russell,  I  was  elected  first 
lieutenant,  Evans  second  lieutenant,  and  Rus- 
sell first  sergeant,  to  his  great  disgust,  as  he 
said  that  all  he  knew  was  "how  to  shoot." 
Four  pack-horses  were  loaded  with  supplies,  as 
it  was  uncertain  how  long  we  would  be  absent, 
and  game  was  not  over  plenty.  Many  of  the 
mountains  in  California  are  grassy,  with  open 
timber,  and  clear  of  underbrush. 

The  best  information  to  be  had  was  that  the 
Indians  had  gone  towards  the  mountains,  pass- 
ing a  small  mining  camp  called  Cold  Spring. 
We  made  for  this  place  and  soon  struck  the 
Indian  trail.  We  followed  the  trail,  crossing  a 
creek  called  Blue  Canon.  Here  the  Indians  had 
killed  three  miners  and  burnt  their  cabins.  The 
miners,  who  were  horribly  cut  up,  were  known 
to  several  in  our  party.  We  gave  them  decent 
burial.  The  Indians  had  camped  one  night  at 
this  place. 

We  now  followed  the  trail  at  a  gallop  wher- 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       221 

ever  the  ground  permitted.  The  Indians  had 
remained  together,  as  we  kept  a  sharp  lookout 
to  ascertain  if  they  divided  their  village.  About 
noon  we  came  to  a  lake,  and  the  signs  showed 
that  they  had  camped  there  that  morning,  as 
the  ashes  in  the  fires  were  still  hot.  We  were 
certain  that  up  to  this  time  they  had  no  idea 
that  we  were  following.  We  remained  at  the 
lake  one  hour  for  lunch  and  then  took  up  the 
trail,  which  led  up  a  long  ridge  towards  a  high 
mountain.  From  the  ridge  the  Indians  must 
have  discovered  us,  for  we  now  saw  signs  that 
they  had  been  hurrying  forward. 

We  soon  overtook  their  rear  lookouts,  who 
made  for  their  outfit.  The  village  had  just 
reached  a  creek  when  we  came  in  sight  of  it. 
The  Indians  soon  had  their  packs  off  and  formed 
a  breastwork.  Perkins  remarked,  "  There  is  a 
chief  who  understands  how  to  prepare  for  a 
fight."  We  had  not  looked  for  this  from  these 
Indians.  They  were  armed  with  a  few  good 
rifles,  obtained,  no  doubt,  from  miners,  and  had 
many  Mexican  rifles  and  bows  and  arrows. 

We  now  divided  our  forces.  Perkins  ordered 
me  to  take  twenty -five  men  and  cross  the  creek, 
so  as  to  make  a  flank  movement.  This  was 
done  with  considerable  difficulty,  as  the  banks 
of  the  creek  were  very  steep.  When  we  got 


222       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

opposite  the  Indians  we  tied  our  horses  behind 
trees  for  protection.  Meantime  the  Indians 
were  sending  forth  yells  of  defiance  and  firing 
a  few  shots  from  long  range.  They  had  no  pro- 
tection from  our  side,  as  the  creek  bank  was  fully 
six  feet  higher  than  it  was  on  the  Indian  side. 

Perkins  had  deployed  his  men  and  opened 
the  engagement,  and  was  gradually  drawing 
nearer  the  Indians,  until  he  was  within  one 
hundred  yards  of  their  breastwork. 

About  forty  Indians  were  facing  us.  The  wo- 
men were  rolling  up  lodges  so  as  to  make  tempo- 
rary breastworks  against  our  shots.  We  kept 
creeping  closer  and  closer,  taking  cover  behind 
trees,  until  we  got  within  fifty  yards  of  the  creek. 

The  chief  was  brave,  and  if  all  his  warriors 
had  been  likewise,  Perkins  would  have  had  a 
hand-to-hand  combat,  as  the  chief  with  eighty 
warriors  charged  him.  They  had  covered  half 
the  distance  to  Perkins  when  the  chief  fell. 
This  disheartened  the  others  and  they  beat  a 
hasty  retreat  to  the  breastworks.  Here  the 
Sharps  rifles  proved  their  superiority  over  the 
muzzle-loaders,  and  the  rapidity  of  their  fire 
astonished  the  Indians. 

From  our  side  we  had  the  Indians  at  a  great 
disadvantage.  The  edge  of  the  bank  was 
fringed  with  trees,  and  we  were  able  to  keep 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       223 

creeping  nearer  and  nearer.  The  women  and 
children  soon  became  panic-stricken  and  before 
long  the  warriors  also,  and  it  was  now  that  they 
suffered  the  most;  the  warriors  running  about 
within  their  enclosure  and  getting  mixed  up 
with  the  women  and  children.  Almost  every 
shot  we  fired  took  effect. 

Perkins  was  now  almost  at  the  breastwork 
and  we  had  reached  the  very  edge  of  the  bank. 
One  miner  in  my  command  had  an  arm  broken 
by  a  shot  and  another  was  shot  in  the  ribs. 
4 'Silver  Tip"  had  his  ear  split  by  an  arrow. 

The  Indians  now  became  frantic  and  they 
jumped  into  the  creek  en  masse,  women,  men, 
and  children  all  mixed  up.  Perkins's  force 
charged  over  the  breastwork  and,  amid  the 
greatest  screaming,  howling,  and  yelling  one 
ever  heard,  killed  what  few  Indians  were  there. 

About  thirty  of  the  men  escaped.  We  cap- 
tured the  women  and  children  who  remained. 
Many  of  the  latter  had  fallen,  which  could  not 
be  avoided,  for  they  were  mingled  with  the  men, 
and  the  miners  shot  at  anything  that  looked 
like  an  Indian. 

Perkins  had  six  wounded  in  his  command, 
two  quite  seriously,  but  by  careful  nursing  they 
all  recovered.  Russell  had  a  close  call,  getting 
a  bullet  through  his  hat. 


224      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

We  captured  seventy-four  horses ;  many  in  the 
bunch  had  been  stolen  from  miners.  We  also 
found  seventeen  white  men's  scalps  which  we 
took  with  us  to  show,  so  as  to  teach  a  lesson  to 
those  sceptics  who  believed  in  the  innocence  of 
the  Indians.  Besides  the  horses  we  found  sad- 
dles, blankets,  clothing,  and  about  five  hundred 
dollars  in  gold  dust  in  buckskin  purses. 

We  destroyed  everything  in  the  shape  of 
lodges  and  scalped  all  the  men.  Every  miner  had 
one  scalp  and  some  two,  besides  a  quantity  of 
bows  and  arrows  and  guns.  After  the  fight  a 
council  was  held  and  many  of  the  miners  were 
in  favor  of  wiping  out  the  women  and  children 
whom  we  had  captured,  but  the  trappers  per- 
suaded them  not  to  do  so.  We  considered  for 
some  time  taking  the  women  prisoners,  but  con- 
cluded they  would  be  a  burden.  The  men  who 
had  escaped  would  return  soon  after  our  de- 
parture, and  there  was  no  danger  that  they 
would  starve,  as  berries  and  roots  were 
plentiful. 

We  constructed  three  travois  for  the  worst 
wounded  and  returned  to  the  lake  at  the  foot 
of  the  ridge,  reaching  it  about  midnight. 

At  daylight  six  miners  were  dispatched  to 
settlements  to  have  doctors  and  wagons  meet 
us  at  Blue  Canon.  We  travelled  slowly  on  ac- 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains      225 

count  of  the  wounded,  and  reached  the  Canon 
on  the  second  day.  Fully  one  hundred  men 
were  there  to  meet  us,  and  they  were  wild  with 
elation  over  our  victory.  The  miners  made  it 
appear  that  we  trappers  were  more  than  heroes, 
and  "Silver  Tip"  said  it  made  us  blush  to  hear 
such  flattery.  The  doctors  took  charge  of  the 
wounded,  putting  them  in  spring  wagons.  We 
arrived  at  Cold  Spring  Hotel  by  sundown,  and 
the  people  there  would  not  let  us  cook,  but 
made  us  dine  at  the  hotel. 

Next  morning  we  prepared  to  start  for  our 
camp  at  Little  York,  but  the  citizens  all  pro- 
tested. We  must  go  to  Nevada  City  and  let 
the  people  see  a  true  American  mountaineer. 
I  suppose  we  did  look  strange  to  them  with  our 
two  big  Colt  revolvers,  rifle,  and  a  two-pound 
tooth-pick,  besides  our  fringed  buckskin  suits 
and  moccasins.  When  we  arrived  in  Nevada 
City  the  whole  population  turned  out  to  greet 
us.  They  were  no  longer  depressed  in  spirits 
Qver  all  the  murders,  as  they  were  satisfied  the 
mysteries  were  solved  and  the  guilty  detected 
and  punished.  Even  the  mayor  got  beyond 
himself  in  a  public  speech,  giving  the  trappers 
credit  for  being  the  "avengers  of  all  this  slay- 
ing of  prospectors."  He  held  up  to  view  the 
seventeen  white  men's  scalps,  and  one  man  in 


226      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

the  crowd  rose  and  pointed  to  a  certain  one, 
saying,  "That  is  Lawyer  Lewis's  scalp." 

The  miners  who  were  with  us  overdid  the 
killing,  saying  we  had  wiped  out  over  two  hun- 
dred men  and  women.  We  heard  afterwards 
that  some  of  the  ministers  gave  us  credit  for 
being  savages  and  fit  only  to  dwell  among  such. 

Next  day  we  brought  in  the  seventy-four 
horses,  twenty  of  which  had  belonged  to  pros- 
pectors. They  were  turned  over  to  the  city 
authorities  and  sold  at  auction,  bringing  in 
about  fifty  dollars  per  head.  This  money,  at 
our  request,  was  given  to  the  wounded  men. 

The  citizens  offered  to  raise  a  purse  for  us 
but  the  offer  was  rejected,  as  we  stood  in  no 
need  of  money.  They  prevailed  upon  us  to 
spend  the  day  with  them,  and  when  the  stage 
arrived  in  the  evening  the  papers  were  full  of 
accounts  of  massacre.  One  large  pack-train  had 
been  taken  and  all  the  packers  killed  except 
one  Mexican,  who  had  escaped  and  brought  the 
news.  This  took  place  at  Biglow's  Lake,  at  the 
head  of  Truckee  River.  Volunteers  were  called 
for  to  chastise  the  Indians  who  had  committed 
the  crime. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

Our  Services  in  Request  at  Hangtown  (Placerville).  We  Meet 
the  Indians  at  Biglow's  Lake.  A  Desperate  Charge. 
Mexican  War  Veterans  Save  the  Day.  To  Kill  a  Chief  is  to 
Win  the  Battle.  Our  Trained  Horses.  Fastidious  Trap- 
pers Annoyed  by  Blood  Spots  on  their  Buckskin  Suits.  The 
Owner  Gets  his  Mules.  The  Trinity  Massacre.  "Tar- 
heads"  Chastised.  The  Trappers  in  the  Rogue  River  and 
Modoc  Wars.  The  Pitt  River  Massacre.  Our  Band 
Breaks  up.  Through  the  Modoc  Country  again.  Fort 
Walla  Walla.  I  Go  as  Scout. 

THE  next  day  we  returned  to  Little  York, 
where  the  news  of  our  victory  over  the 
Auburns  had  spread  like  wildfire.  A  letter  came 
to  the  mayor  requesting  us  to  go  to  Hangtown 
(now  Placerville),  where  volunteers  would  be 
enrolled,  and  we  went  as  requested.  Great  ex- 
citement prevailed  there,  and  sixty  men  were 
mustered  under  the  command  of  Bob  Williams. 
We  came  in  contact  with  the  Indians  at  Big- 
low's  Lake,  where  there  is  a  prairie  of  some 
extent.  The  Indians  were  armed  with  lances, 
bows  and  arrows,  and  some  Spanish  flint- 
lock guns.  When  we  deployed  on  the  prairie, 

227 


228       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Indians  to  the  number  of  one  hundred  and  fifty 
charged  us.  We  passed  through  them,  wheeled, 
and  recharged,  attacking  the  Indians  in  the 
flank.  At  this  they  became  bewildered,  for 
they  had  not  expected  to  be  charged  in  turn. 
There  happened  to  be  twenty-five  men  in  the 
company  who  had  served  as  cavalrymen  in  the 
Mexican  War.  But  for  that  fact  we  would  have 
met  with  disastrous  defeat.  The  volunteers' 
horses  became  unmanageable  in  the  yelling  and 
firing  that  ensued.  Through  it  all  the  trappers, 
who  had  right  flank  in  charge,  remained  together, 
striking  the  Indians  on  their  left,  where  the 
Indians  were  three  to  one.  Led  by  two  chiefs 
and  armed  in  part  with  lances  they  charged  us, 
but  the  chiefs  went  down  when  within  fifty  yards 
of  us.  The  Indians,  seeing  their  chiefs  fall,  halted 
for  a  moment,  which  was  fatal  to  them.  The 
trappers  passed  through  them  with  their  Colt  re- 
volvers playing  before  they  had  recovered  their 
presence  of  mind.  It  was  a  slaughter.  The 
trappers  wheeled  and  charged  the  main  body  of 
Indians  and  struck  them  on  the  left  flank,  doub- 
ling them  up.  At  this  instant  the  Mexican  War 
veterans  had  wheeled  and  charged  with  a  yell. 
They  were  brave  men,  and  if  their  horses  had 
been  trained  as  ours  were  they  would  have  done 
three  times  the  execution  they  did.  As  it  was, 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       229 

the  charge  they  made  saved  the  day  to  us. 
There  was  one  tall  Indian  decorated  with  all 
the  barbaric  splendor  of  war-bonnet  and  feath- 
ers on  a  fine  horse,  who  was  endeavoring  to  rally 
the  Indians.  The  trappers  saw  at  a  glance  that 
this  chief  must  be  gotten  rid  of  if  we  were  to 
gain  the  victory,  and  we  made  for  the  cluster  of 
Indians  he  was  rallying,  scattered  them,  and 
killed  the  chief  and  several  lesser  ones.  When 
you  put  a  quietus  on  a  chief  you  have  a  battle 
won.  The  Indians  beat  a  hasty  retreat  up  the 
valley,  where  their  village  was  located.  Rus- 
sell's horse  went  down  in  this  charge,  but  he  se- 
cured the  Indian's  horse  and  soon  overtook  us. 

In  rounding  a  bend  we  came  upon  the  pack- 
train  of  mules.  About  sixty-five  Indians  who 
had  passed  through  the  village  were  at  their 
heels.  The  old  men  and  women  who  had  wit- 
nessed the  battle  and  its  results  had  abandoned 
the  village  and  taken  to  the  mountains. 

We  burned  the  village  and  everything  it  con- 
tained, collected  the  mules  and  ponies,  and 
returned  to  the  battlefield.  Only  forty  of  us 
followed  the  Indians  to  their  village,  and  in 
this  running  fight  the  superiority  of  our  Sharps 
rifles  became  again  apparent.  When  we  began 
fighting  we  had  forty  rounds  of  ammunition, 
and  we  came  out  with  from  three  to  seven. 


230      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Captain  Williams  gave  them  the  credit  for  gain- 
ing the  victory,  but  there  is  no  doubt  in  my 
mind  that  it  was  due  to  the  Colt  revolvers. 

The  captain  remarked  that  he  had  seen  lots 
of  cavalry  service,  but  had  never  seen  such 
well-trained  horses  as  ours.  I  rode  my  Ken- 
tucky horse  "Otto,"  and  came  near  losing  him, 
for  a  bullet  passed  through  his  ear.  Perkins's 
horse  died  from  wounds.  "Scotty's"  horse  fell 
at  the  first  charge,  but  he  quickly  found  another 
mount.  "Scotty"  was  a  hero  in  a  fight,  quick 
as  a  flash,  cool  and  collected  under  the  most 
trying  circumstances. 

Six  of  the  Mexican  veterans  and  two  miners 
fell  in  the  fight.  Many  of  these  volunteers  were 
poor  horsemen  and  had  never  fired  a  pistol 
before.  They  were  brave  enough,  but  they  could 
not  control  their  horses.  For  such  an  engage- 
ment as  we  had  just  had,  constant  drill  in  the 
use  of  arms  and  in  horseback  riding  was  required. 

We  had  buried  the  eight  men  who  had  fallen 
when  thirty  men  arrived  as  a  reinforcement. 
It  was  amusing  to  see  these  new  arrivals  scalp- 
ing the  Indians.  The  trappers  showed  them 
how  to  accomplish  it  and  they  were  apt 
scholars. 

Some  of  the  trappers  had  received  slight 
wounds.  The  only  thing  that  annoyed  them 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains      231 

was  getting  blood  on  their  buckskin  suits. 
Buckskin  is  hard  to  clean. 

A  council  was  held  to  consider  whether  to 
follow  up  the  Indians  or  not.  Finally  the  cap- 
tain concluded  that  this  chastisement  would 
prevent  them  from  molesting  any  more  whites. 

We  started  on  our  return  trip  and  reached 
Hangtown  without  further  trouble.  The  owner 
of  the  mules,  who  lived  in  Marysville,  was  noti- 
fied to  come  and  get  his  property. 

News  had  arrived  that  the  Indians  in  Shasta 
and  Trinity  counties  were  hostile,  and  while  we 
were  absent  had  committed  what  is  known  as 
the  Trinity  massacre,  slaughtering  right  and 
left,  men,  women,  and  children.  Volunteers 
had  been  called  for,  and  the  captain,  with  his 
old  soldiers  as  well  as  we  trappers,  joined  the 
forces.  When  we  reached  Shasta  City  we  found 
every  one  scared  nearly  to  death,  and  there  were 
many  families  there. 

Those  Indians  are  known  as  "  Tar-heads, "  and 
they  received  a  just  chastisement  when,  in  less 
than  thirty  days,  more  than  half  of  them  were 
placed  hors-de-combat,  which  put  a  quietus  on 
any  further  devilment  on  their  part.  The  In- 
dian Commissioners  gathered  the  remnant  of 
them  and  they  became  wards  of  Uncle  Sam. 

We  remained  in  this  section  until  1855,  when 


232       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

we  took  part  in  the  wind-up  of  the  Rogue  River 
war.  The  volunteers  were  commanded  by  Gen- 
eral Lamrick,  who  received  his  appointment 
through  political  influence.  He  understood 
nothing  about  military  tactics  and  less  about 
Indian  fighting. 

In  1856  the  Modoc  war  broke  out.  Three 
companies  were  called  out,  and  we  belonged  to 
what  was  known  as  the  " Buckskin  Rangers." 
Our  commander  was  General  Crosby,  a  third- 
rate  lawyer,  who  also  received  his  appointment 
by  a  political  pull.  He  was  a  counterpart  of 
Lamrick  in  knowledge  of  Indian  fighting. 
Neither  of  them  ever  went  into  an  engagement. 

At  the  close  of  the  Modoc  war  the  Pitt  River 
Indians  committed  the  Pitt  River  massacre  and 
the  three  companies  went  after  them.  After 
annihilating  about  half,  the  remainder  surren- 
dered and  were  placed  on  a  reservation.  The 
volunteers  were  disbanded,  but  we  trappers  re- 
mained together,  mining  a  little  until  1858. 

In  the  spring  of  that  year  Perkins,  Noble, 
Docket,  Evans,  and  "Scotty"  concluded  to  go 
to  New  Mexico.  Russell  remained  with  me. 
We  all  promised  to  meet  again,  but  never  did, 
although  we  often  corresponded. 

About  this  time  there  was  great  excitement 
over  the  discovery  of  gold  on  Fraser  River  in 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains      233 

British  Columbia,  and  for  a  while  it  looked  as 
if  the  stampede  would  deplete  California  of  her 
mining  population.  Pack-trains  were  rushing  to 
Dallas,  Oregon,  to  pack  supplies  to  the  miners 
on  the  river.  Don  Alvares,  a  Chilian,  engaged 
Russell  and  myself  to  guide  him  and  his  two 
pack-trains  from  Yreka  to  Dallas.  We  took 
the  east  side  of  the  Cascade  range,  as  grass  was 
reported  scarce  on  the  west  side.  This  route 
took  us  through  the  Modoc  country  by  Klamath 
lakes,  but  we  experienced  no  difficulty  and  it 
was  evident  that  the  Indians  had  cooled  down, 
for  a  while  at  least. 

When  we  arrived  at  Dallas  we  met  some 
officers  from  Walla  Walla,  who  told  us  the  com- 
mander wished  to  employ  some  experienced 
scouts.  We  were  offered  good  pay  to  accom- 
pany a  pack-train  to  Eraser  River,  but  declined, 
preferring  to  visit  Fort  Walla  Walla. 

When  we  reached  the  Fort  we  saw  a  number 
of  Nez  Perces  Indians  on  the  parade  ground 
surrounded  by  officers.  We  attracted  consider- 
able attention  owing  to  our  fringed  buckskin 
and  moccasins.  The  Indians  immediately  asked 
us  in  sign-language  where  we  had  come  from? 
We  answered  in  signs,  much  to  the  astonish- 
ment of  both  officers  and  Indians,  who  did  not 
expect  such  proficiency  from  us.  Colonel 


234       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Wright,  the  commanding  officer,  invited  us  to 
his  office  and  asked  us  many  questions,  which 
we  answered  truthfully,  after  which  he  engaged 
us  as  scouts. 

Some  little  time  before  we  reached  the  Fort 
the  Yakimas,  Spokane,  Colville,  and  other  tribes 
had  declared  war.  Colonel  Steptoe  met  the 
Palonse  and  Spokane  tribes  and  was  defeated. 
Lieutenant  Caston,  a  nephew  of  General  Scott, 
lost  his  life  in  this  battle.  The  Nez  Perces  came 
between  the  hostiles  and  troops  and  saved  the 
latter  from  being  slaughtered. 

Colonel  Wright  had  succeeded  Colonel  Step- 
toe  by  order  of  General  Harney,  who  in  turn 
had  succeeded  General  Wool  as  commander  of 
the  Pacific  Coast.  There  had  been  a  lull  in 
Indian  affairs,  and  Colonel  Wright  was  anxious 
to  find  out  if  possible  what  the  Indians  were 
doing  and  how  many  warriors  they  could  muster. 
This  was  a  difficult  problem  for  us  to  solve,  as 
we  were  strangers  in  the  country. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

Death  of  Russell.  A  Brave  Man  and  a  True  Comrade.  I  am 
Left  Alone.  My  Horse  Hickory.  A  Business  Trip  to 
Trade  and  Spy.  In  the  Enemies'  Camp.  My  Part  nearly 
Chokes  me.  An  Extraordinary  Trade.  We  Get  what  we 
Came  for.  The  Spokane  River  Campaign.  I  Establish  a 
Trading-Post  at  Missoula.  Fort  Benton.  The  Expedition 
of  1874  with  General  Crook.  American  Horse.  Later 
Years. 

RUSSELL  bought  a  fine  unbroken  horse  and 
saddled  and  mounted  him  outside  of  the 
parade  grounds,  where  there  were  rock-piles. 
He  was  an  expert  and  fearless  rider,  but  the 
moment  he  was  in  the  saddle  the  horse  began 
pitching  furiously.  The  officers  asked  me  if  he 
would  be  able  to  " stick,"  and  I  answered  "Yes, 
if  nothing  breaks." 

I  had  no  sooner  spoken  when  the  cinch  broke 
and  Russell  landed  on  his  head  on  one  of  the 
rock-piles.  We  rushed  to  him  and  found  him 
unconscious.  The  doctor  was  immediately 
called  and  ordered  to  have  him  conveyed  to  the 

235 


236       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

hospital.  His  skull  was  badly  fractured  and  he 
never  regained  consciousness.  On  the  second 
day  he  died,  and  I  lost  one  of  my  closest  friends. 
He  was  one  of  the  bravest  men  I  had  ever 
known,  kind  and  generous  to  a  fault  and  a  man 
of  infinite  resource.  He  had  been  in  more  des- 
perate engagements  than  fell  to  the  lot  of  many 
who  followed  prairie  life  for  a  calling.  I  was 
left  alone. 

I  had  lost  my  horse  "  Otto,"  which  had  received 
a  poisoned  arrow  in  one  of  the  engagements  on 
Pitt  River.  Another  one  of  my  trained  horses 
was  crippled  by  stepping  in  a  badger  hole  while 
in  pursuit  of  Indians.  I  had  purchased  a  thor- 
oughbred in  Yreka,  calling  him  "Hickory." 

This  horse  I  retained  for  many  years,  and 
he  was  well  broken.  He  would  lie  down  on  a 
blanket  and  he  seemed  to  have  human  intelli- 
gence. The  officers  wanted  to  buy  him,  but  I 
told  them  he  was  not  for  sale.  He  would  come 
at  a  gallop  when  I  whistled,  expecting  sugar 
and  some  petting.  The  ladies  said,  "Hamilton, 
you  love  your  horse  and  we  don't  wonder  at 
your  not  parting  with  him." 

Soon  after  Russell's  death  I  was  introduced 
to  a  Scotch  half-breed  named  McKay,  who  was 
well  acquainted  with  the  country  and  could 
speak  two  or  three  Indian  languages.  The 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       237 

officers  told  me  Jae  was  brave  and  could  be 
trusted. 

We  held  a  consultation  about  the  best  way 
of  penetrating  into  Indian  villages.  McKay 
had  found  out  that  the  Indians  were  in  need  of 
ammunition  and  tobacco,  so  I  proposed  to  the 
officers  that  we  take  two  pack-horses  loaded 
with  the  articles  named,  and  make  the  Indians 
believe  we  were  their  friends.  We  would  also 
tell  them  that  if  the  officers  found  out  that  we 
traded  ammunition  they  would  hang  us. 

The  council  of  officers  approved  this  plan,  and 
we  began  at  once  to  prepare  for  the  expedition. 

I  concluded  to  leave  my  horse  "Hickory" 
and  take  Russell's  horse,  which  was  a  good  one. 
We  secured  two  gentle  ponies  to  pack  the  am- 
munition and  tobacco,  and  left  the  Fort  after 
dark.  We  made  about  forty  miles  before  day- 
light and  hunted  up  a  spring  which  McKay 
knew  of.  We  remained  here  until  sundown, 
and  that  night  reached  the  Columbia  River 
about  ten  miles  below  the  mouth  of  Umatilla 
River. 

On  the  opposite  side  was  a  Klick-a-tat  vil- 
lage which  had  joined  the  hostile  tribes.  It 
was  about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  when 
McKay  called  to  them.  They  asked,  "What's 
wanted?"  and  we  answered  friends,  and  to 


238       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

come  over  with  canoes,  as  we  wanted  to  cross. 
They  came  over  with  two  and  we  crossed, 
swimming  our  horses. 

On  reaching  the  village  we  found  the  whole 
tribe  assembled  to  see  who  could  possibly  come 
at  that  time  of  night.  They  were  acquainted 
with  McKay,  but  they  sized  me  up.  I  was 
dressed  in  a  Hudson  Bay  shacto  coat,  with  a 
Scotch  cap.  These  Indians  were  friendly  with 
Hudson  Bay  employees.  'They  feasted  us  with 
dried  salmon  and  we  told  the  chief  what  we  had. 
After  this  we  slept  till  daylight,  when  a  council 
was  held.  The  chief  informed  us  that  the 
Palouse  and  other  tribes  would  assemble  on 
McNatchee  River  that  day,  as  the  Yakimas 
with  their  great  chief  Kan-a-yak-a  wanted  to 
see  how  many  warriors  each  tribe  could  furnish. 
He  further  said  that  they  would  be  glad  to  see 
us  with  ammunition  and  tobacco.  We  traded 
a  little  with  these  Indians,  and  as  a  blind  had 
to  take  in  exchange  two  good  ponies. 

We  reached  the  rendezvous  after  dark,  ac- 
companied by  a  delegation  of  Klick-a-tats,  and 
were  taken  direct  to  the  chief's  lodge. 

Our  arrival  created  quite  a  disturbance  in 
the  village  and  the  chief  eyed  us  closely  for 
some  time,  in  fact  until  the  Klick-a-tats  told 
him  how  they  crossed  us  after  midnight  and 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains      239 

traded  for  some  ammunition.  This  lulled  the 
chief's  suspicion,  my  Hudson  Bay  dress  assisting. 

I  had  acquired  quite  a  knowledge  of  Chinook 
jargon  and  we  conversed  in  this  language. 
They  asked  me  many  questions,  all  of  which  I 
answered,  telling  them  that  Hudson  Bay  men 
were  their  friends,  and  that  I  had  been  sent 
with  this  ammunition  and  tobacco  to  trade  with 
them  for  a  few  ponies.  It  came  near  choking 
me  to  tell  such  outrageous  falsehoods. 

Next  day  about  four  thousand  warriors  as- 
sembled, and  they  were  a  gay  and  proud  lot  of 
Indians,  who  looked  with  disdain  on  both 
McKay  and  myself.  We  found  out  all  that 
Colonel  Wright  required, — the  approximate 
number  of  warriors,  and  also  that  the  lull  was 
caused  on  account  of  waiting  for  the  different 
tribes  to  gather  all  their  outside  Indians  and 
then  to  hold  a  council.  They  decided  to  assem- 
ble all  their  warriors  on  the  Spokane  River  and 
draw  the  soldiers  on,  when  they  would  kill  all 
the  cavalry  and  take  "walk-a-heap"  (infantry) 
prisoners  and  make  slaves  of  them. 

We  traded  all  our  ammunition  and  tobacco, 
and  such  a  trade  was  never  made  before  or 
since.  We  gave  all  our  stuff  to  the  chief  and 
told  him  to  give  us  what  ponies  he  thought 
proper.  He  called  up  the  Indians  who  had  no 


240      My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

ammunition  and  issued  some  to  each,  for  which 
we  received  a  few  ponies  and  not  very  good 
ones  either. 

That  afternoon  at  five  we  started  as  if  going 
west,  but  when  out  of  sight  of  the  Indians  we 
turned  south,  so  as  to  strike  the  Columbia 
opposite  Wallula,  at  the  mouth  of  Walla  Walla 
River.  We  rode  the  best  ponies,  leading  our 
horses.  The  poor  ponies  we  left  on  the  prairie, 
having  no  use  for  them.  When  the  ponies  gave 
out  we  rested  for  half  an  hour  and  then  saddled 
our  horses,  which  were,  comparatively  speaking, 
fresh.  We  made  excellent  time  and  at  sun-up 
were  opposite  Wallula. 

McKay  knew  where  the  Indians  always  kept 
canoes  "cached,"  but  we  rested  an  hour  before 
attempting  to  cross.  The  river  is  wide  at  this 
place  and  it  takes  a  good  horse  to  swim  it. 

We  crossed  without  mishap  and  let  the  horses 
feed  for  two  hours,  after  which  we  proceeded 
towards  the  Fort,  where  we  arrived  at  ten 
o'clock  that  night.  It  was  thirty  miles  from 
Wallula  to  the  Fort.  We  reported  our  arrival 
to  the  officer  on  guard  and  he  sent  an  orderly 
to  Colonel  Wright.  This  orderly  soon  returned 
with  orders  to  report  immediately  at  head- 
quarters. 

A  council  was  in  progress  and  we  made  our 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains      241 

report.  Colonel  Wright  was  well  pleased  at  the 
news  that  the  Indians  were  collecting  on  Spo- 
kane River,  and  he  said  the  campaign  would  be 
a  short  one.  His  predictions  proved  true.  The 
Indians,  in  force  estimated  at  five  thousand 
strong  and  fairly  well  armed,  were  met  by  Col- 
onel Wright  with  one  thousand  soldiers,  forty 
Nez  Perces  Indians,  and  two  howitzers,  which, 
when  the  shells  burst  among  them,  doing  con- 
siderable execution,  frightened  the  Indians  very 
badly.  They  beat  a  hasty  retreat  to  St.  Joe 
Mission,  and  the  chiefs  pleaded  with  the  fathers 
to  intercede  for  them.  Nine  chiefs  were  taken 
prisoners  and  held  as  hostages  for  the  Indians' 
good  behavior.  We  then  returned  to  the  Fort, 
having  been  absent  but  six  weeks. 

An  Indian  rumor  had  it  that  all  tribes  east 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains  were  forming  a  com- 
bine against  whites.  The  United  States  was 
getting  tired  of  these  continual  outbreaks  of  the 
Indians,  so  I  volunteered  to  find  out  whether 
there  was  any  truth  in  the  Indian  rumor.  I 
took  McKay  with  me,  also  a  trading  outfit.  We 
passed  through  recent  hostile  tribes,  going  by 
St.  Joe  Mission,  and  found  the  Indians  surly, 
but  on  their  good  behavior. 

We  camped  one  night  where  Missoula,  Mon- 
tana, now  stands,  and  I  noticed  many  Indian 


242       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

trails  converging.  It  struck  me  as  an  ideal 
spot  for  a  trading-post,  and  I  told  McKay  that 
if  we  got  back  from  this  trip  with  our  lives 
I  would  return  and  establish  a  trading-post 
there,  which  I  did  late  that  fall. 

We  made  the  trip  and  found  the  Indian 
rumor  false.  Returning,  we  reported  the  news 
to  Colonel  Wright.  I  received  great  credit  for 
that  trip.  Settling  with  the  Government,  I  pur- 
chased some  goods  and  started  back  to  Mon- 
tana, establishing  a  trading-post  at  the  aforesaid 
place.  I  remained  there  until  1864,  when  I 
sold  out  and  moved  to  Fort  Benton,  and  opened 
up  a  business  at  that  place.  I  was  elected 
Sheriff  and  appointed  Deputy  United  States 
Marshal.  In  1869  I  sold  out  at  Fort  Benton 
and  moved  to  the  Yellowstone  Valley,  intend- 
ing to  open  a  trading -post. 

About  this  time  the  Sioux,  Arapahoes,  and 
Cheyennes  became  very  hostile,  even  making 
raids  on  the  farmers  in  the  Gallatin  Valley. 

In  1874  an  expedition  was  organized,  con- 
sisting of  one  hundred  and  forty-eight  men. 
We  started  in  midwinter,  going  down  the  Yel- 
lowstone River,  crossing  at  lower  Porcupine 
Creek.  We  then  travelled  over  a  broken  coun- 
try to  East  Rosebud,  having  two  small  engage- 
ments en  route. 


My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains       243 

On  East  Rosebud  we  had  two  rifle-pit  en- 
gagements, repulsing  the  Indians  in  every 
instance  with  heavy  loss.  We  then  went  to 
the  Little  Big  Horn  and  had  two  more  fights, 
one  on  Grass  Lodge,  where  fifteen  hundred  In- 
dians charged  us,  but  we  repulsed  them  with 
heavy  loss.  The  people  in  Bozeman  having  had 
no  tidings,  concluded  we  were  all  lost. 

This  was  the  expedition  which  brought  on  the 
war  of  1876,  that  was  so  disastrous  to  General 
Custer  and  his  command.  In  that  year  I 
joined  General  Crook  on  Goose  Creek,  engaging 
as  scout  along  with  nine  others. 

The  General  took  his  troops  to  Wolf  Moun- 
tains and  had  a  fight  with  the  Sioux  and  Chey- 
ennes,  losing  thirteen  soldiers  besides  having 
several  wounded.  We  beat  a  retreat  back  to 
Goose  Creek  and  remained  there  until  joined  by 
General  Merritt  with  reinforcements.  Mean- 
while General  Custer  had  been  annihilated  while 
we  rested  with  eighteen  hundred  soldiers.  When 
General  Merritt  joined  us  we  moved  down 
Rosebud  to  Tongue  River  without  meeting  any 
hostile  Indians,  and  then  to  Powder  River. 
General  Terry  arrived  on  a  steamboat. 

A  council  was  held  which  lasted  several  days. 
In  the  meantime  the  Indians  had  divided,  Sit- 
ting Bull  crossing  the  Yellowstone  and  Crazy 


244       My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains 

Horse  going  east  until  he  crossed  the  Little 
Missouri,  then  southeast  to  Slim  Buttes. 

Our  command  followed  Crazy  Horse.  We 
struck  a  Sioux  village,  with  American  Horse  as 
chief.  We  captured  the  village  and  took  Ameri- 
can Horse  prisoner.  The  chief  had  received  a 
wound  in  the  fight,  from  which  he  died  that 
night. 

The  troops  had  been  living  on  horse-meat  and 
were  anxiously  looking  for  supplies.  The  com- 
mand proceeded  to  White  Wood  Creek,  where 
supplies  arrived  from  Deadwood.  The  troops 
were  given  a  week  to  recruit  up  in  and  then  pro- 
ceeded to  Custer  City,  remaining  there  a  few 
days. 

From  Custer  City  we  went  to  Camp  Robinson, 
capturing  a  few  Indians  on  the  road. 

At  Fort  Laramie  I  resigned  and  returned  to 
the  Yellowstone  Valley,  locating  at  Columbus, 
Montana,  then  known  as  Stillwater.  At  eighty- 
two  years  I  am  hale  and  hearty  and  always 
spend  a  part  of  each  year  in  the  mountains 
trapping;  thankful  that  I  can  still  enjoy  and 
appreciate  the  wonderful  beauties  of  nature. 

THE  END 


